


Space Seed: Into Darkness

by lexwing



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-27
Updated: 2013-11-09
Packaged: 2017-12-13 04:25:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 30,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/819958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lexwing/pseuds/lexwing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prequel of sorts bringing "Space Seed"'s Lt. Marla McGivers to "Into Darkness" storyline. Historian Marla McGivers is an expert on the Eugenics Wars. She's reassigned to Admiral Marcus' staff to study a derelict vessel from the late 20th century and its contents. But all is not what it seems. Admiral Marcus/John Harrison/Khan/Marla McGivers</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Space Seed: Into Darkness

 “Space Seed” was one of my all time favorite episodes of the original series.  But there were a few important elements of it that didn’t make it to “Into Darkness” I felt it could have used—namely Lt. Marla McGivers.  So here is my humble attempt to ret-con her into the 2013 film.  A prequel of sorts.  If you enjoy and think I should keep going, do leave some feedback:)

 

   The communicator on Lieutenant Marla McGivers desk buzzed insistently. 

   With a sigh she pushed aside the stack of papers she was grading and picked it up.

   “Lt. McGivers here.”

   “McGivers, Captain Rivers here, adjutant to Admiral Marcus.”

   Marla frowned.  “Uh, good afternoon, Captain.  How can I help you?”

   She was genuinely puzzled.  Since she had come to teach at Starfleet Academy five years before she had had almost no interaction with the brass that actually ran the place.  And she hadn’t really expected any.  After all, she taught history—and not just history, but Earth history, the dullest, most unglamorous subject a space jockey could imagine. 

   In all her classes she worked hard to convince cadets that Earth history was worth knowing, that a solid understanding of humanity’s past as a species would only help them as they traveled out into the universe.  She always held up the Vulcans as an example.  She’d yet to meet one who did not have an encyclopedic knowledge of Vulcan history.

   But it seldom worked.  Usually a cadet only took the one or two history courses required of them before moving on to more fun courses like Klingon linguistics and warp engine repair.

   “The Admiral would like to know if you’d be available to meet with him at 1600 hours today.”

   She glanced at her tablet computer, and then at the pile of essays on First Contact she had yet to read.  “Two hours from now?  Umm…”

   “It is on a matter most urgent, Lieutenant, I assure you,” said the cool, crisp voice on the other end of the communicator.  The use of her rank, she knew, was not accidental.  Most of her students just called her ‘Dr. McGivers.’  But the Captain was reminding her just how low on the Starfleet totem pole she ranked.

   She carefully modulated her tone.  “Of course I shall be there.   I would not want to disappoint the Admiral.”

   “Excellent.  Tower 15, 4th floor conference room.  Rivers out.”

   “Goodbye,” she said.  But the speaker had already clicked off.  She was talking to dead air.

 

   She sighed and rubbed her eyes.  So much for getting through her grading today.

   Standing, she grabbed her communicator and her satchel and walked down the hall to see her department chair.  Outside the enormous glass windows a light rain was falling on San Francisco, but the sun was already peeking through the clouds.  The moisture made the towers and walkways of the Academy glisten.

   Captain Laurence Tibbideaux was in his office.  He waved to her through the glass.  The door slid open as she arrived.

   “Hello, my dear!  I hear you are going to see the big boys this afternoon.”  In his heavy French accent it sounded like ‘ze beeg boys.’  Marla carefully stifled a laugh. 

   “Word travels fast.  Do you know what’s going on?”

   The older man gestured for her to sit down.  “I do not, I’m afraid.  But there is nothing to be frightened of.”

   Marla shook her head, which knocked loose a piece of her red hair from her bun.  She had to tuck it behind an ear.

   “I’m not afraid of Admirals.  I’m just puzzled and hoped you knew something.”

   “Oh, the military does not speak to us lowly academics.  As you know our ranks are purely bureaucratic.  I am a captain but I could no more pilot a starship than I could dance on the surface of Venus.” He gave a Gallic shrug.  “But since you are here, may I ask how goes the new book?”

   “Slowly.  Very slowly.  It seems like I have been crunching data for years.  But I think I’ll have some very interesting things to say when I finally publish.”

   Tibbideaux’s academic specialties were the histories Vulcan and Romulus, two planets with cultures very much alive and with readily accessible sources.  Of course humans were not welcome on Romulus.  But Tibbideaux had spent years on old Vulcan and now new Vulcan working in their archives.  He had more than a dozen well-received books to show for it.  Even Vulcan historians acknowledged Tibbideaux’s prowess as a scholar--the highest possible praise, indeed.

   As she did at least once a day Marla rued her decision to specialize in a rather obscure field of pre-United Federation Earth history.  The Eugenics Wars of the 1990s had been a brief and turbulent time, and few sources had survived the dark ages that had followed.  She spent her life tracking down tiny pieces of information and trying to put them together into some kind of coherent narrative.  Granted, she was regarded as an expert in her field, too.  But it was field no one else cared about.

   Captain Tibbideaux poured her a cup of tea and passed it to her.  “Patience, Lieutenant.  What I’ve heard of your new work sounds well worth pursuing.  You must stick with it.”  He sat down opposite her and regarded her steadily while she sipped her tea.  “May I give you some advice on dealing with the brass?”

   “I was rather hoping you would.”

   He nodded.  “Well, first of all, never forget they are military men and women, first and foremost.  Answer their questions directly and honestly and in few words as possible.”

   Marla raised an eyebrow at this.  Her department chair chuckled.

   “Yes, I know, we historians tend to be long winded, full of ‘maybes’ and ‘perhaps’ and ‘it may be.’  They hate that.”  He thought for a moment.  “You should know this, though--your mamma and papa were Starfleet, were they not?”

   “Yes, but I was so young when they died that I barely remember them or how they behaved.  And Grandpa was even more of an academic than you are, Captain.” 

   He chuckled.  “Ah, yes, Professor Finbar McGivers, terror of the University of London for nearly half a century.”

   Marla smiled, even though her heart ached a bit.  Her much-loved grandfather was gone now, too.  She still missed him bitterly.

    “So, when you go before the Admiral, speak to him truthfully.  He must need your expertise on something, else why summon you at all?”

   “I doubt that.  What could I possibly have to teach him?”  Marla finished her tea and set down the cup.  “What do you know about Admiral Marcus?”

   “Alexander Marcus is one of the longest-serving and most respected men in Starfleet,” the old man said.  “Also one of the most powerful.”  He regarded his junior faculty member seriously.  “You want this man on your side, Marla.”

   She nodded and stood.  “I understand.  Thank you, Laurence.”

   “Not at all, my dear.  Good luck.  And Marla?”

   She paused.  “Yes?”

   “Do fix your hair before you go and see him.  Marcus is a stickler for protocol.”

***

    Marla heeded her colleague’s advice and was neat as a pin when she walked into the conference room on the other side of campus. 

   She was always rather unhappy about her red Starfleet uniform, feeling it was too close to the color of her hair.  But the tunic-length garment was spotless, as were the matching trousers underneath.  Her hair was coiled atop her head to within an inch of its life.  She looked every inch the serious academic.

   A thin man with mocha-colored skin stood as she entered.  “Lt. McGivers, good of you to come on such short notice.  As you can imagine the Admiral’s schedule is quite full.”

   “Captain Rivers?”  She asked.

   The man nodded, and they shook hands.

   “Not at all,” she told him.  “I am happy to assist in any way I can.”

   No sooner had she said this than the doors slid open behind them and four men trooped in.  Two were enlisted men, between them toting a large hard plastic carrying case almost as big as Marla herself.  They placed it gingerly on the conference table and left the room.  She couldn’t help but notice that they then stationed themselves outside the door, so no one else could enter.

   The third man busied himself setting up a projector and a relay—for some sort of conference call, Marla surmised.

   The fourth man approached and stood in front of her.  His pale blue eyes scanned her up and down.  “She’s younger than I thought she’d be,” he observed aloud to no one in particular.

   If they had been in a crowd of thousands Marla still would have been able to pick this man out as Admiral Marcus.  And it wasn’t just the uniform.  It was in his bearing, the way he held his body.  The sharp planes of his face may have softened a bit with age, and he was a bit thick around the middle.  But he still had the coiled energy and steely-eyed gaze Marla always associated with Starfleet officers.

   Captain River introduced them formally.

   “Do you go by ‘Dr. McGivers’ or ‘Lt. McGivers’?”  The Admiral asked.

   “Either one is fine, Admiral.”

   “OK, Lt, McGivers, have a seat.”  The Admiral pointed at a chair opposite him.  The other three men sat down as well.  “Captain Rivers you’ve met.  This is my personal assistant, Commander Rhodes.”

   The man who’d been fiddling with the relay nodded at her.  “The link should be available now, Admiral,” he told his commander.

   “Good.  Bring him up.”

   Rhodes pushed a few buttons on the relay, and an image appeared in the air.  It was perhaps four feet high and three feet across.  The link wasn’t perfect, as there was a bit of static around the edges.  Marla wondered if they were connecting to someone too close to a sun or other interplanetary activity that might be interfering with the transmission.

   But the picture was clear enough that she could see a fifth man looking back at them.  He appeared to be a control room of some sort.  He had a lean face, with dark hair swept back from a high forehead and piercing blue eyes.

   “Starfleet Agent John Harrison, meet Lt. Marla McGivers.  McGivers, Agent Harrison.  He’s consulting on this project,” the Admiral said absently, looking down at the tablet his adjutant had just set before him.

   “Good afternoon, Lt. McGivers,” the agent greeted her.  Marla identified the round tones of his accent to be upper-class British in origin.  Yet there was something about him that didn’t seem to match that social class.  After a moment she realized it was because even from a great distance he was radiating the same kind of personal energy the Admiral did.  Here, too, was a man who was used to commanding and to being obeyed without question.

   Marla reminded herself that Starfleet agents were often recruited from the officer ranks.  She tried to shrug off her uneasiness.

   “Hello,” she said simply.

   With introductions out of the way the Admiral nodded at Rhodes.  The other man pushed the packing case across the table in her direction.

   “I would very much like your academic opinion on what is in this case,” the Admiral told her.

   Curiouser and curiouser.  Marla stood so she could better lean forward and unlatch the case.  She eased the lid back and gasped aloud at what was inside.

   “Where did you…oh, hang on, hang on…”  Marla grabbed her bag and pulled out the cloth gloves she always carried around with her as a precaution.  Once they were on she gently reached into the case and lifted the artifact from its plush confinement.

   “Oh, it’s beautiful,” she breathed.  “Wow.”

   “Do you recognize it, Lieutenant?”  The voice came over the speaker again, and Marla jumped.  She’d been so excited she’d forgotten where she was for a moment.

   She glanced around her.  Everyone—Admiral Marcus, Commander Rhodes, Captain Rivers, and Agent Harrison—were looking at her expectantly.

   She cleared her throat.  “Of course I do.  It’s a class M pulse rifle, manufactured by the Tatami Corporation.  They were in business from 1985 to 1999.”  She studied the plastic casing, the barrel, and the trigger guard.  “Pulse rifles were beautiful weapons—light, easy to operate, almost indestructible.  That’s why they were so popular during the wars.”

   “Efficient, would you say?”  The Admiral asked.

   “Oh yes.  Designed specifically for maximum kill rate with a minimum of effort.  Only a few survived the dark ages.  There are two here in Starfleet’s archive, and the British Museum and the Smithsonian each has one.  I’ve never seen one in this kind of condition, though.  It looks…well, I mean, it looks almost…”

   “New?”  The Admiral supplied.

   Marla blinked at him.  “Well, yes.  But that’s not possible.”

   “Actually it is, Lieutenant.”  He nodded at his adjutant.  Captain Rivers leaned forward.

   “Fourteen months ago a derelict ship was discovered by a Starfleet research vessel.  Designation S.S. Botany Bay.  This gun is from its airtight hold.”  He pushed a tablet at her, and Marla saw the image of a late 20th century vessel, badly battered from its time in space.

   “Does the name mean anything to you?”  The voice came from the projection again.  Marla glanced back at Agent Harrison, puzzled that he’d been the one asking most of the questions so far.

   “No.  I mean, ‘Botany Bay’ is of course a reference to the penal colony established on the shores of what became Australia in the 18th Century.  But this ship?  I have not heard of it.  But that doesn’t mean much.  The records for this period are fragmentary.”  Marla’s head was spinning.  “I’ll have to do some research…”

   “The weapon, Lieutenant,” the Admiral reminded her, jolting her back to the here and now.

   Marla remembered her department chair’s advice.  She took a breath.  “An airtight environment would explain this artifact’s rather remarkable state of preservation.  And if you’re asking me whether this weapon is the right period to be found in that ship then I’d say it’s dead on.”

   “And what other weapons would you expect the find in a ship of this era?”  Marcus asked.

   “Well, starships from the late 20th Century were pretty basic.  Not really designed for combat because they didn’t have much maneuverability yet.  And since they had no warp engines they couldn’t travel very far anyway.  At most they’d have a few laser cannons, if that.  Any other weapons they wanted they would have had to bring on board: pulse rifles, flash grenades, fragment bombs, really nasty anti-personnel stuff…”

   Marla trailed off as the implications of what she was saying hit her.  “Hang on, are you saying you have more of these?”  She once again held up the weapon in her hands.  “That you’ve got a cache of late 20th century weapons in mint condition?”

   The men in the room all exchanged glances.  Marla once again had the uneasy sensation she’d waded into very deep waters here.    

   The scholar in her plunged ahead.  “Admiral, forgive me, but if we could be taking about one of the most important historical finds in recent memory here!  Where is the ship now?”

   “The ship is in a secure location, Lieutenant,” Captain Rivers told her flatly.  “Starfleet is taking every precaution with it, I assure you.”

   “I’m sure they are, Captain, and I meant no disrespect to the Admiral, of course.”  McGivers frowned, frantically trying to think of some way to get through to these men.  Was it possible they really did not understand the importance of such a find?  All the questions it might help answer?  She thought of the half-finished book on her own tablet computer.  Oh, what these new findings might add to her story!

   “Your concerns are duly noted, Dr. McGivers,” the Admiral said.  “Which is why I suggest you come and see what we’ve found for yourself.”

   Marla’s jaw dropped open.  “I’m sorry?”

   “We could use someone with your expertise on this.”  Marcus glanced over at the screen, where Agent Harrison was staring steadily back at him.  “Don’t you think so, Harrison?”

   The agent was silent for a long moment.  Marla became convinced he was about to say ‘no.’  Then what would she do?  The thought of going back to grading papers when this remarkable find was out there was unbearable.

   But Harrison finally smiled.  It was a cold smile, but a smile nonetheless.  Marla’s heart skipped a beat as he spoke.

   “By all means, Admiral.  Bring her along.  The more the merrier.” 

 

 

  

  

   

  

 


	2. Ch2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to all of you who were kind enough to review so far! As you know I’m trying to stick to cannon as much as reasonably possible in the context of “Into Darkness.” Therefore some of the dialog below is from the original episode, written by Gene L. Coon and Carey Wilber. Thank you, gentlemen!  
> Please don’t sue. I own nothing!

Ch. 2

   Marla eagerly peered out the front view screen of the shuttle craft.

   They finished passing over Jupiter in all its multi-colored glory, and a moment later the research station came into view.

   For security reasons it didn’t have a name, or a number.  Marla had not even been told its exact coordinates.

   That didn’t particularly trouble her.  There were lots of things in Starfleet no one talked about.  As an academic she had only ever had low-level security clearance, although she’d been told it had been bumped a bit higher so she could participate in this project.

   “There it is,” Captain Rivers told her from the jump seat next to her.

   “So I see.  Looks…industrial.” 

   The station was a hulking black mass, quite unlike the elegant starbases and starships she was used to.  A narrow opening in the front allowed for crafts to arrive and depart.  She could see the faint blue glow of the interior from where she sat.  It reminded her of nothing so much as a hive, with the shuttlecrafts the drones swarming in and out.

   “It is industrial,” he said with a nod.  “Deep space salvage, R&D, experimental propulsion.  There’s nothing in this universe these guys couldn’t build or take apart and put back together.”

   “And completely off the official books, of course.”  Marla laughed at Rivers’ expression.  “That’s not an insult, Captain.  Just a statement of fact.  What did you tell my department to get them to release me before the end of the semester, anyway?”

   “That you were needed to examine some parchment discovered by a research team in Greenland.”

   Her eyebrows arched.  “They bought that?”

   “Your department chair did.”

   “That’s all that matters, I suppose.”  Truth be told Marla did not feel that sorry her students would have to complete their studies with a substitute professor.  There were only a few weeks to go after all.  They’d be fine.

   The shuttle craft had entered the station.  The massive size of the facility was now becoming clear.  She could see the many levels of either side of them, and the docking bays for dozens of ships of all different sizes and shapes. 

   Marla let out a low whistle.  “You guys have been working on this for some time.”

   Rivers only nodded.

   “Shuttlecraft Beta, proceed to docking bay ninety four,” a voice announced through the speakers.

   “Shuttlecraft Beta confirms docking bay ninety four,” their pilot echoed, turning them slightly to port. 

   When they’d left Starbase 1 that morning Marla had been surprised to see that she and the Captain would be traveling with a civilian crew, not Starfleet officers.  Judging by their clothing and the roughness of their hands she guessed they were workers heading to the project. 

   They had all eyed Marla with suspicion.  She had smiled and tried to chat with a few of them.  But after getting mainly grunts in response she had given up sometime around Callisto and had sat in quiet contemplation instead.

   She hadn’t been in space since she was a child.  She’d forgotten how beautiful it was.

   They docked and Marla paused to allow the workers to disembark ahead of her.  She then pulled on her coat and gathered up her bags.

   “Let me help you with that.”  The Captain grabbed a battered leather satchel out of the overhead bin and grunted with surprise.  “What do you have in here, rocks?”

   “No, Captain.  Books.”

   “Books?  Real paper books?”  He looked at her as if she was quite mad.

   “Some of them, yes.  They’re too fragile to scan; some are the only copies in existence.  I didn’t dare ship them ahead with the rest of my gear.”

   “I guess not.”  He hefted the bag in one hand as they descended the gang plank.  “So would you like me to show you to your quarters, or…”

   “If it’s all the same, I’d like to get started right away.”

   “I understand, Lieutenant.”  He hailed one of the only men around in uniform.  “Ensign, arrange to have the rest of Dr. McGivers’ bags taken to her quarters on C Deck.”  He handed over the satchel.  “And make sure this gets to her lab.  Be extremely careful with it.”

   “Yes, sir.”  The ensign turned smartly on his heel and hurried away.

   Marla smiled at the older man.  “I have a lab?”

   “You have a lab.  Besides the equipment you sent ahead we weren’t sure what else you’d need…”

   “I’m sure I can manage, Captain.”  Marla rubbed her hands together eagerly.  “Now, let’s get started.  Take me to the ship, please.”

* * *

 

   The S.S. Botany Bay was in a forward hanger all to itself, under extremely tight security.  Marla counted three different checkpoints between the turbo lift and the entrance to the hanger itself.

   Admiral Marcus and his assistant were there waiting for her.

   “Good afternoon, Lieutenant,” the Admiral greeting her.  “How was the trip?”

   “Fine, Admiral, thank you.”

   “They treat you well on Starbase 1?”

   “Yes, I had a very nice evening.  And of course I never get tired of that view.”  Starbase 1 was the very first one humans had ever built, hovering just beyond the moon.  It was famous for the beautiful views of Earth framed in nearly every window.

   “Good.  Sorry I couldn’t get you on a direct flight from Earth but the long-range shuttles were all booked.  Even I only have so much pull around here.”

   They all chuckled at the joke.

    “Shall we?”  The Admiral nodded at Commander Rhodes, and he signaled to the closest security station.  The doors rumbled open on their enormous rollers.

   Marla was the first one inside.

   “Well, Lieutenant?”  Marcus asked her.  “What do you think?”

   The Botany Bay was seated directly on the steel floor, its landing gear supporting its weight like a grasshopper on its haunches.  Compared to modern starships it was small, square and squat.

   Marla whistled.  “The meteor pitting is a lot worse than in the photos you showed me.  I think it’s a miracle it survived.”

   She stepped closer.  The designation was barely readable.  Metal plates were scarred and scorched from its long journey.  Several of the heat shields were twisted the wrong direction. 

   And it was still the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen.

   “Do you know who built it?”  Marcus asked her as they walked around the vessel.

   “This one in particular?  No.  I’ve been combing the records but no information on the Botany Bay or its destination has survived.  But in the late twentieth century individual nations still existed.  Each built their own starships, if they could.  That’s why there were so few of them.  Most couldn’t afford it.”  Marla chewed her lip as she thought.  “The design is American—most DY100 class starships were American-designed.  But the welding seams, the orientation of the deflectors, makes me think this is Asian-built.  Chinese, maybe.  There was a huge starship construction company based in Hong Kong, and that city fell in the early days of the Wars.  The Botany Bay may be part of that fleet.”

   “Interesting,” the Admiral observed.

   “I’d know more if I could get inside it,” Marla said hopefully.

   “We’ve anticipated that.”  The Admiral gestured to heavy-duty electrical conduit that snaked from the ship across the floor.  “Our technicians got enough auxiliary electrical power going that you won’t be stumbling around in the dark.  Commander Rhodes will go with you, make sure you don’t get hurt.”

   Marla beamed at him.  “Thank you, Admiral.”

   Without waiting for her escort Marla went to the underside of the ship.  She’d studied hundreds of technical manuals from this period and, sure enough, the hatch was located exactly where she expected it to be.  Tentatively she reached out and pulled down on the latch.

   With the groaning creak of old metal the hatch swung back.

   Unlike modern spacecraft the old ones did not have a side opening that allowed for easy entrance and exit.  You had to climb into them.

   Marla reached up into the belly of the vessel and found a series of metal rungs embedded in the side wall.

   “Need a boost?”  She heard Rhodes ask from somewhere behind her.

   “No, thank you,” Marla said primly.  “I’ve got it.”  She grabbed hold of a rung and pulled herself up and into the Botany Bay.

   With just the auxiliary power on it was dim inside.  As her eyes adjusted Marla could see she was in the main hold.  The ship was not divided to serve different functions.  Instead it was one large space, with a control panel to one side.

   Marla went to it.  She examined the panel, experimentally flipping a few of the switches.  Most refused to budge.  The gauges appeared to be frozen in place as well.

   “About what you expected?”  The Commander asked her as he approached.

   “Yes.  Old school atomic power.”  She pointed further up the board.  “And look—transistor units.  All blown out from the look of it.  The ship would have been dead in space.”

   “It was just drifting when it was found,” Rhodes confirmed. 

   Marla moved further into the ship.  Built into the walls were glass and steel enclosures, three and four high, each perhaps seven feet long.

   She gasped.  “It was a sleeper ship!  You didn’t tell me that!”

   “A what?”

   “A sleeper ship.  I’ve seen photographs.  Since it took so long to travel from one planet to another in those days they’d put the crew to sleep until the ship arrived at its destination.  These were bunks, see?”

   Marla couldn’t resist: she pulled open one of the doors.  The thin pad that would have supported the sleeper was crumbling with age.  But she still felt dizzy to think that she was touching something put in place more than two hundred years earlier.

   “You didn’t find any human remains?”  She asked.

   “Remains?  No, we did not.”

   She sighed.  “No, that would have been too much to hope for.  Bones could have told us so much: who used this ship, where it came from…”

   “Perhaps whoever launched it abandoned ship when it began to malfunction,” the man suggested.

   “I hope so.  Otherwise it would have been a very slow death in here.” 

   Glancing around her Marla suppressed a shiver.  It was cold in here now, but out in space it would have been colder.  Without any mechanism for internal heat frost would have built up on every surface; the air would have been so cold you would have been able to see your breath.  As the other systems failed the navigation would have gone next; then the lights; finally, life support itself…

   “Doctor?”

   Marla jumped at the sound of the Commander’s voice.  She realized to her embarrassment she’d been standing there staring off into the distance as she’d imagined the scenario.

   She cleared her throat.  “Sorry, Commander.  Overactive imagination.  The bane of the historian, I’m afraid.”

   “Of course.  But if you’ve seen everything you’d like to see perhaps we should head over to the lab?  That’s where we’ve placed the items from the airtight hold.”

   “Oh, yes, please.”

* * *

 

   The lab space they’d set aside for her was on C deck, not far from her quarters, the Admiral promised.  The glass doors required a key card for access.  Commander Rhodes swiped his, and then handed it to Marla.

   “Yours while you’re here.”

   “Thanks.”  Marla scanned her work space.  Four large computer screens were side by side on one table as she had requested, so she could work with multiple documents at once.  A scanning microscope from her office occupied another table.  Her books had been carefully laid out on the third alongside her personal tablet.

   But Marla only had eyes for the artifact boxes.  There were perhaps a dozen of them, a few larger but most smaller than the pulse rifle she had examined at Starfleet headquarters.  She felt like a kid at Christmas.

   “Have you made a preliminary survey of the contents?”

   “We have.”  Captain Rivers handed her a tablet with a spreadsheet.  “We indentified each item and its likely origin to the best of our ability.”

   Marla quickly scanned down the list.  “Hmmm, no—they didn’t make fragment bombs until 1995…that’s got to be Jaipur, not Mumbai…” she murmured aloud as she read.  She looked up.  “Well, this is a start, at least.  I can work with this. Thank you.”

   The doors slid open again.

   “John, there you are,” the Admiral said.  “Lieutenant McGivers, you remember Agent John Harrison?”

   Still distracted by the tablet, Marla only glanced at the tall man who had entered the lab.  “I do.  Hello again, Agent Harrison.”

   “Hello, Lieutenant McGivers,” he told her.

   “The Lieutenant is going over the data we’ve put together so far,” the Admiral explained.

   “I don’t know why she’s bothering.  Half of its wrong,” Harrison told him.

   Marla looked up in surprise.  “Why, yes, it is.”  She glanced apologetically at Rivers.  “It’s a very good effort, though, and I can fix it quite quickly.”  

   She took another moment to look at the Starfleet agent.  How had he known it was wrong?  Had the Admiral brought in another expert without telling her?

   He certainly looked like a Starfleet agent.  Or at least what she assumed one would look like: tall, handsome, an exceptionally intelligent expression in his bright blue eyes…

   Harrison caught her looking at him and smiled.  Marla hastily looked away.

   “It would be helpful, Admiral,” she began again as she starting setting up for artifact analysis, “if you told me what you’d like to know.  I mean, of course I’ll be happy to catalog everything you’ve found and make suggestions for preservation on a case by case basis.”  She pulled on her cotton gloves and set out support blocks that would prevent the precious finds from resting directly on the table.  “But I suspect you didn’t bring me all this way just for that.”

   “You’re very perceptive, Lieutenant.”  The Admiral nodded in satisfaction.  “What we need to know from you is the specifications for each of these weapons, along with known origin and usage.”

   “The specs?”  Marla frowned.  “Well, it’s not as if they ever had instruction manuals that went with them.  But I can get you usage and origins, or at least as near as the records will allow.”  She was already snapping open the first case.

   “That’s all I ask,” Marcus said.

   Marla withdrew from the first case another rifle, setting it down gently on the support blocks.  “Another one in beautiful condition,” she said happily.  “Thank heavens for airtight storage compartments.  If this had been out in the open it would have rusted away to nothing by now.  Even so, you can see some of the pitting and scoring around the edges and seams.  We should probably treat it to stop further corrosion.”

   The men had gathered around her.

   “Another pulse rifle?”  Rivers asked.

   “No, this one’s called an arc rifle.”  She slid open the compartment just in front of the trigger.  “See here?  There would have been a tiny arc reactor installed here.  The gun then emitted an electrical shock out the barrel when you pulled the trigger.  If it helps, think of it as a very basic version of a phaser.  Nasty, but effective.  When they worked.”

   “’When they worked’?”  Marcus echoed.

   “Yes.  According to the sources I’ve read arc rifles had a tendency to short out at the most inconvenient times.  Like, say, in the middle of battle.”

   “Which is why,” Agent Harrison explained, “people would sometimes remove the arc reactor and substitute an electrical circuit instead.  Less powerful but much more reliable.”

   “Theoretically, yes,” Marla corrected.  “Although none of the modified weapons have survived so we can’t confirm that.” 

   Harrison just shrugged.

   Marla was starting to grow annoyed with this man.  She’d never been one for ego, but the one thing she’d always taken pride in was the quality of her scholarship.  The last thing she wanted was some rank amateur interfering with her work.

   The Admiral cleared his throat.  “Thank you, Lieutenant.  That’s just the sort of information I’d like to know.  Gentlemen, let’s leave McGivers to it, shall we?”

   Marla breathed a sigh of relief when the door closed behind them.  “Finally,” she said to herself.  “Now, we can get to work.”

* * *

 

   As often happened when she was doing research Marla quickly lost track of time.  It might have been a hour, or it might have been several, before she heard the door slide open again.

   She glanced over her shoulder.  Agent Harrison was back.

   Knowing she had her back to him Marla felt safe in rolling her eyes.  But she was determined to be polite.

   “Hello again, Agent Harrison.  May I help you with something?”

   “I just thought I’d come and check on your progress.”  He came to stand next to her at the table.

   Marla couldn’t help but notice he’d used the word “I.”  Not “the Admiral and I” or “we.”  Just “I.”  That seemed very strange.  She hoped the agent hadn’t somehow gotten it into his handsome head that she was working for _him_.

   But she was determined to be polite. 

   “Certainly.”  She gestured at the screens.   “I’ve linked up to the databases on my office computers back home and I’m running some analyses now.  I’ve decided to only do one artifact at a time, so I can be as thorough as possible.”  She turned so he could see the stack of books at her elbow.  “And I’m including in my notes all the contemporary references I can find in case the Admiral finds that useful.”

   Harrison’s eyes seemed to light up at the sight of the books.  “I’m sure he will.”  He reached down as if to pick up one of them, but at the last minute he noticed Marla’s expression of alarm.

   “I’m sorry.  May I?”  His long-fingered hand was just inches away from the book on top of the stack.

   “Well, yes.  But please be careful, Agent Harrison.  These are exceptionally rare.  They are irreplaceable.”

   “I understand.  I’ve missed books,” he said rather absently as he picked up the first one.  He studied it for a moment, set it down, and took up another.  He finally paused as he examined one well-worn spine.  “Who was Raul Hyssop Singh?”

   Seeing the careful way he handled her books Marla relaxed slightly.  She leaned against the table.

   “He was a scientist.  One of the ones who triggered the Eugenics Wars.  Of course that book you’re holding came out before any of that had happened.”

   “Indeed?”

   “Yes.”  Marla reached out and opened the book for him, so he could see the flyleaf.  “See there?  The imprint?  New York City, 1979.  The title may be ‘Building A Better Man’ but everyone thought what was in there was only theoretical.” She shook her head.  “Of course if the world had know how far Singh and others like him had already gotten by ‘79…” 

   Harrison nodded.  “Is this a rare book?”

   “It is now.  Most were burned during the Wars as being heretical.  I supposed you can understand why.”

   “I can.  But I can’t say I approve of book burning under any circumstances.”

   Marla had to smile at that.  “No, nor do I.”

   He handed it back to her.  “Thank you, Lieutenant.”

   “You’re welcome.”  Marla folded her arms.  She was reasonably tall for a woman, but she still had to look up at Harrison as she spoke.  “So, tell me, Agent Harrison.  Do you collect antique weapons?”

   “No, I do not.”

   “Oh.  I thought maybe you did.  That bit about the arc reactors being swapped out for circuits—that’s pretty obscure knowledge.  I’ve only run across it a few times in the literature.”  She regarded him seriously.  “How did you know about it?”

   “I pick up all sorts of knowledge in my line of work,” he told her smoothly.

   Marla couldn’t quarrel with that.  “Yes, I imagine you do.”

   She turned back to her work, but after a few minutes she realized Harrison was still looking at her.  She sighed.

   “Did you have another question, Agent?”

   “I was wondering why you wear your hair in such an uncomplimentary fashion.”

   Marla’s mouth dropped open.  She quickly snapped it shut.

   “Excuse me?”

   “I asked why…”

   She waved her hand.  “I heard you the first time.”  For a moment Marla contemplated whacking him with one of her priceless books.  But he was bigger than she was, and a Starfleet agent besides.  She’d probably end up in the brig for assault if she did that.

   “It’s comfortable,” she snapped instead.  “And it’s regulation.”

   “But it’s not attractive,” he told her.  Before she could stop him he had reached out and pulled out some of the hairpins on the left side of her head.  Tendrils of her red hair worked loose from her bun, brushing her shoulders.

   She should have smacked his hands away.  She meant to do so.

   But she didn’t.

   He did the same thing on the other side.  Then he took her by the shoulders and positioned her so she could see her reflection in one of the monitors.

   “There,” he said in her ear.  “Soft. Natural. Simple.”

   For a moment she stared at her reflection and that of Harrison just behind her.  Her eyes were wide and shining.

   She quickly pushed him away.

   “Agent Harrison, I'm here on business,” she told him abruptly.

   “You can’t find pleasure here?”  He asked her with a smile.

   “My interest is scientific, men of...that is, the world of the past.”  She was babbling, and she knew it.  She really, really disliked this man!

   “I’d like to get back to work, if you don’t mind,” she said flatly.

   But he still reached out and curled a piece of her hair around his finger for a moment before releasing it.

   “There.  Simple. Soft.  Please remember.”

   Marla straightened her spine.  “Leave now, Agent Harrison.”

   “Of course.”  He bowed his head slightly and left the lab.  The doors closed behind him with a soft _woosh_.

   Marla pulled out a stool and sat down.

   She felt dizzy.

   And she had no idea why.

  

       

   

  


	3. Ch3

Ch. 3

Marla dreamed of war.

_She stood on a battlefield outside a ruined city. Most of the buildings had been reduced to rubble. Smoke and screams filled the air._

_The humans were mounting a fresh assault. She could see waves of their soldiers disembarking from armored vehicles in the distance._

Foolish humans, _she thought to herself in the dream_. Why do they not bow to us? We are their superiors in every way. Why do they resist us?

_She felt frustration, and anger that the humans were fighting. But no fear._

_Looking to her left and right she saw her brothers and sisters, her fellow Augments. They were male and female, and of every race on Earth: white, black, Native American, Asian. But they were all tall and beautiful and terrible to behold._

_The humans, weighed down by their armor and weapons, were working their way towards them through the debris field._

_Marla waited patiently with the others until her commander gave the order. Then they rushed towards the humans._

_The humans outnumbered the Augments five to one. But it was still a slaughter. The genetically-enhanced fighters were simply too strong and too fast._

_Marla used her weapon until it ran out of ammunition. Then she used her bare hands. Under their armor the humans were so fragile! It took barely a blow or a kick to incapacitate, and just the tiniest twist to snap its neck before moving on to the next one._

_Soon her hands were dripping with their blood._

_In the chaos she heard one, wounded, no doubt, feebly calling for help. She leapt over bodies and broken concrete, finally finding the human wedged in a shell crater. Its helmet had slipped sideways and a wound on its side was making it mewl pitifully._

_She reached down and grasped it by the head, twisted it sharply so the vertebrae and the spinal cord snapped._

_In so doing the helmet slipped off the body._

_Marla found herself looking down into her own vacant blue eyes, now staring sightlessly into the sky. Her own body hung limply in her hands…_

She awoke with a start. Sweat was trickling down the back of her neck, and she'd kicked the blankets into a tangled mess at her feet.

With a shuddering laugh she ran her hands over her face.

"That is absolutely the last time I re-read my own work before I go to sleep," she murmured ruefully to herself.

With a sigh she rolled over and turned up the light in her quarters so she could see where she was going. She went to the small sink in the bathroom and ran cool water. She bathed her face with it until her heart rate slowed back down to normal.

"Computer, what time is it?" She asked as she dried herself.

"It is 5:45AM Earth Greenwich Mean Time," the pleasant female voice told her. "It is 10:06:04 solar hour on New Vulcan. It is fifth minute and third hour on Betazed. It is…"

"That's enough, thank you." Marla shook her head. On the one hand it was really too early to be up. But thanks to her exceptionally vivid dream she was wide awake.

On the other hand, a facility like this one never really shut down, she reasoned. There would surely be people up and around, even at this hour.

She dressed in her spare uniform and took her time combing the knots out of her hair. She was already twisting it up into her customary bun when she remembered her rather disturbing conversation with Agent Harrison the day before.

He'd called her hairstyle uncomplimentary.

Marla paused and stared at her reflection in the mirror. She'd been putting her hair up for so long she'd never really thought about how it looked. Next to cutting it all off, which she refused to do, a bun had always seemed like the most practical thing to do with it. And none of the men she'd dated had ever complained about it.

She picked up a lock of hair, as Harrison had, and studied it. She had to admit it was pretty, silky and a vivid red inherited from her Celtic grandfather.

But she wasn't about to wear her hair down. She wasn't about to let Harrison know he'd gotten to her.

After some more thought she settled for only drawing the top section up and back, leaving the rest to brush her shoulders.

What had Harrison called it? "Simple. Natural"

"Well, I don't know if this is either, but I like it," she told her reflection.

Before leaving her quarters she picked up her sketchpad and some pencils. Perhaps she could get some drawing done before settling down to work in her lab for the day.

The corridor outside her quarters was quiet. She managed to find her way to the turbo lift. Once inside she studied the buttons.

There were more than thirty of them—not surprising in a station of this size. But what was a little odd was that ten of them were blacked out. Not only did they have no label or sign indicating what deck they went to but when Marla pushed them nothing happened. She even experimentally swiped the access card for her lab. Nothing.

Whatever top secret work Starfleet was carrying out here was clearly on those floors. She wondered idly if the deck that held the Botany Bay was one of these levels. If so she would have a heck of a time ever finding her way back to it if she needed to do so.

"Computer, where can I get a cup of coffee at this hour?" She asked aloud.

"The mess is located on deck 14B," the computer told her.

"Thank you," Marla said absently. Fortunately for her that button was labeled. She pushed it and waited the few seconds it took to travel that far.

Once again she had the troubling sense of dark currents eddying just outside of her reach. She was starting to wonder if this station, and whatever work was being done on it, was beyond Starfleet's usual line.

She hadn't been joking with Captain Rivers the day before when she'd admitted aloud she knew this whole project was off Starfleet's official books. While she'd had the evening to kill on Starbase 1 she'd used her research skills to comb through lists of every known current project underway in the Milky Way Galaxy. Nothing she'd read about seemed to correspond to this place.

What could Admiral Marcus be up to that involved so many decks of a facility this big? And why did he need a Starfleet agent on staff?

Walking into the mess hall Marla forced herself to set those questions aside. She was here to work on the Botany Bay project. That was all. Poking her nose in where it didn't belong would be a sure way to lose Marcus' goodwill. And if that happened she had no doubt she'd be off the project in the blink of an eye.

She couldn't let that happen. She _wouldn't_ let that happen.

"Coffee, strong, milk and one sugar," she told the food replicator. Once she had her hot drink she found a table to herself in the corner.

It was so early in the morning the place was nearly empty. Only a handful of workers were eating breakfast.

Marla was amused to see that like had clustered with like. The engineers all seemed to be at the same table; the enlisted personnel were at another; and so on.

It was like Starfleet Academy all over again. She still hadn't forgotten those first few weeks when hundreds of cadets, herself included, had milled around the dining hall looking for someone, anyone, to sit with. Some place to belong.

Marla had never really found her place there. Most of the people in her graduating class wanted to be officers. They had ambitions of leading great explorations to the stars.

She had only ever been interested in the past. She'd applied to the Academy only because they were willing to support her advanced studies.

She could not have been less like her classmates if she had tried.

Sipping her coffee Marla amused herself by sketching. To warm up she started by doodling, and then she made a couple of quick character studies of the men in the room. Once she found her focus she launched into a more detailed sketch done solely from memory.

"Good morning. May I sit with you?"

Marla jumped. She'd been so focused on what she was doing Agent Harrison had managed to sneak up on her again.

"If you'd like," she said, quickly turning her mind back to her work. Drawing was as much an intellectual exercise for her as her research was, and she hated to be interrupted.

But with Harrison sitting opposite she found she could no longer concentrate. With a sigh she set down her pencil and picked up her coffee cup.

Harrison was looking at her in that focused way she was already coming to recognize. It was as if he was able to see what was going on inside her head.

"You've rearranged your hair for me," he said. Before Marla could protest he held up a hand. "But I apologize if I offended you yesterday. I did not intend it. You would have every right to be angry with me."

Marla shook her head. The agent did have a way of trying her patience.

"I'm not angry with you," she said carefully. "I just don't like it when strangers invade my personal space without asking. That's all."

He smiled at her. "Then I'll be sure to ask next time."

She shook her head. "Cute. Very cute. There isn't going to be a next time, Agent Harrison."

"Isn't there?"

"No."

They stared at each other for a moment, a small contest of wills taking place right there at the table.

He continued to smile at her, but glanced down at her sketchpad. "May I?" He asked.

"Help yourself."

He picked it up and gazed at the drawing she'd been working on. "You did this from memory?"

"Yes. It's good practice, I think. That's—"

"Napoleon Bonaparte," Harrison supplied.

"Yes. You know your Earth history, Agent Harrison."

"I try to learn as much as I can," he said. He studied it closer. "It's very good. Very accurate."

"It should be. Growing up our house was full of portraits of Bony here. My grandfather loved him."

"'Loved him'?"

Marla smiled. "Yes. My grandfather was a historian, like me, but his specialty was Earth's 18th and 19th Centuries. The Napoleonic Wars, in particular. While other kids were told bedtime stories about princesses and castles he told me stories of Bonaparte and Wellington and Nelson. He even named my poor father 'Horatio.' I don't think Father ever really forgave him for that," Marla laughed.

"But your father was not a historian."

"No, he was a Starfleet officer. First Officer on the USS _Lincoln_."

"And killed in action."

Marla took a deep sip of coffee before nodding. "Yes. They were testing an experimental warp core when it exploded. Several officers died. I was only four—I don't remember him very well."

"And your mother was Starfleet as well."

It was a statement, not a question. "Agent Harrison, if I didn't know any better I'd say you've been looking at my personnel files."

He did not bother to deny it. "Does that bother you?"

Marla thought this over for a moment. "I suppose when you have the kind of security clearance you do you're allowed," she admitted. "But it must have made for dull reading."

"Not at all. I find you very interesting, Marla McGivers." He turned back to the sketch pad, flipping through the pages. "Was it your mother who taught you to draw?"

"It was. She was a botanist. She always made sketches of the new species she and her team were discovering. She died when I was ten. That's when I went to live with Grandfather in London."

Marla looked at Harrison. He was still absorbed in her drawings. "And you, Agent? Where in Britain did you grow up?"

"I did not 'grow up' in Britain," he corrected smoothly.

She was surprised. "Really? Your accent…"

"I was raised in India," he told her.

"Oh. That explains it, I guess," she said sheepishly. She tried again. "Is your family still in India? Parents, siblings, children?"

"I have no family." He held up an older sketch of a wild-looking man with a beard. "Who is this?"

"Leif Ericson. Well, my best guess, since we don't really know what he looked like. Richard the Lionhearted is in there somewhere, too," she admitted.

"All bold men from the past. Richard, Leif Ericson, Napoleon. A hobby of yours, such men?"

"Historians like to speculate in our spare time." Marla shrugged. "And bold individuals are more interesting to speculate about, I suppose."

"You should be careful, Lieutenant. Such men dare take what they want."

Marla laughed. "I'm sure I don't know what you mean, Agent Harrison."

"Don't you?" His blue-eyed gaze was steady. Steely. Under it Marla felt rather like the insects impaled on pins that used to hang in her grandfather's study.

She cleared her throat. "It was nice chatting with you, but I'm due in the lab. Lots of work ahead of me."

"Of course." He closed the sketchbook and handed it back to her. "Thank you sharing your drawings with me."

"Any time."

As he handed the book back to her their fingers brushed. Marla felt his touch like an electric shock. It seemed to travel all the way to her bones.

She quickly pulled away and headed for the door. "Good day, Agent," she threw over her shoulder, determined to get out of the room before he noticed her blushing.

"Good day, Lieutenant," he said with a smile.

Marla had the sinking feeling he knew exactly what she had felt when he had touched her.

* * *

  
The days quickly slipped into weeks.

Marla kept her word to the Admiral. She'd put together hundreds of pages for him on all the weapons from the Botany Bay, along with their origins and usages. As she worked she also distilled that information down into a more basic, tablet-friendly version he could use for briefings or however he liked.

She had not seen or heard from Marcus since the day she'd arrived. His assistant, Commander Rhodes, did stop by from time to time to check on her progress. He always told her that the Admiral was a very busy man, but that Marcus was happy with her progress so far and to keep up the good work. Even Captain Rivers looked in on her once or twice.

In quiet moments she still wondered what the three men were up to, and how it related to the prohibited decks. But she never asked, and they never offered any explanation.

Agent Harrison, however, always seemed to be around. He visited her daily, sometimes twice a day. He was interested in what she was doing, and always wanted to hear about her latest findings.

"Aren't you ever needed back on Earth?" She asked him one day as they stood studying the maps she'd put up on her screens. "You know, Starfleet business and all that?"

"This is Starfleet business," was all he said. "Now tell me again what we are looking at?"

"Population loss from the Wars, represented in graphics. Each dot you see represents a net gain or loss of one thousand people. We estimate somewhere between thirty and thirty-five million people died in the Wars, most of them in Asia. You see that here." She tapped the screen to move to the next image.

"I see."

"Of course that pales in comparison to the death toll from World War III. There you're looking at something like six hundred million dead, with most of the major cities destroyed."

"But they were separate conflicts."

Marla shook her head. "I know that was probably how you were taught about them in school, Agent. But most scholars today agree the two were directly connected. If one had not occurred the other probably would not have. It's a bit like Earth's 20th century conflicts. Without World War I there likely would not have been a World War II."

Harrison regarded her seriously. "You believe this as well?"

"I do. War has a way of causing more wars. That's the way it always has been, and it's the way it always will be. Something to do with human nature, I guess. That's why the Federation works so hard to keep us out of military conflicts." Marla took down the images and replaced them with those of the artifacts she'd been working on when Harrison had arrived.

"May I ask you something, Lieutenant?"

"Marla. Since you're my most regular visitor I guess you can call me Marla, Agent Harrison."

He smiled. "Marla. Then call me 'John,' please."

"If you like."

"Have you ever met a Klingon, Marla?"

It seemed like such a random question she laughed aloud. But she could see he was quite serious. She composed herself. "Um, why do you ask?"

"Just answer the question, please, Marla."

"No. Don't get me wrong, I'd love to, if I didn't think a Klingon would kill me on sight."

"Why? Why would you like to meet one if they're so dangerous?"

Marla sat down. "I find them fascinating. I remember at the Academy I took a xenobiology class with Dr. Maru Hashimoto. When he was a young man he'd been part of a survey team captured by the Klingons. He was held prisoner for several months before the Federation arranged for the team's release. He got to observe them rather closely, and he used to talk about them in class."

"And what did you learn?"

"They're a warlike culture. That we had all had pretty much guessed, given how much trouble we've had with them. But Hashimoto argued, convincingly, I thought, that it was because their whole culture revolves around honor. A Klingon's honor is everything to him or her. Battles are a way to gain it, or to preserve it if need be. To me that makes them rather like some of the societies that used to exist on Earth—the Vikings, or the Aztecs, for example. Or even the Augments."

That got his attention. "I thought you said the Augments believed they were offering humanity order, not war."

She had to smile. "You're a good student, John. If you ever get tired of being an agent you really should come back to the Academy. True, the Augments thought they were offering humanity order. In fact, the analogy they themselves often used was that of Rome under the Cesars. But," she continued, "the fact remains that they started a war to get what they wanted." She regarded him with a thoughtful expression. "Does that really make them that different from the Klingons?"

He was quiet for a long moment. "And what of the rest of humanity?"

"We're not that different, either," she admitted as she stood up again. "We've started plenty of wars on the flimsiest of excuses. But the good news is that the neutral zone between us and the Klingon Empire has held for decades. I guess all we can do is cross our fingers that it keeps holding, right?"

To her surprise John came to stand in front of her. He rested his hands on her shoulders.

"Marla, listen to me. Don't trust Admiral Marcus. Don't trust any of them."

She looked up at his handsome face, his serious expression. She was sure he was in earnest. But why the warning?

"John, I don't understand."

His grip tightened. "Promise me."

"John, you're hurting me…" she whispered just before he claimed her lips with his own.

As she had expected, it was a spectacular kiss. Starbursts erupted inside her skull. She grew so dizzy she could have fallen had he not been holding on to her.

One of her hands involuntarily snaked around his body to rest against his waist. She could feel the hard, coiled muscles of his back.

He broke off the kiss. One of his hands cupped her chin. Once again his grip was strong, almost painful.

"Open your heart," he demanded. "Will you open your heart?"

"I don't know what to do," she admitted breathlessly. "I'm confused…"

It was the wrong answer. He pushed her away from him so hard that had she not caught the edge of a table she would have fallen.

That infuriated her.

"Who are you to tell me who to trust and who not to trust?" She retorted. "You work for Admiral Marcus too, or have you forgotten?"

His disgust was visible. "I do not 'work' for Marcus."

"The Admiral, Starfleet, same difference!"

"It is not the same." He grabbed her arm. "Listen to me, Marla."

"Why? Can I trust you? You've already made it clear that I can't. Now let go of me."

She tried to pry his fingers off her arm. It was impossible—each one was like steel. She suspected she would have bruises the next day.

"I said, let go!"

Instead he tried to kiss her again. This time she turned her face away. "Don't."

He let her go then.

She rubbed her sore arm. "Get out of my lab, Agent Harrison. Right now. Or so help me I'll call security and have you thrown out."

That made him laugh. It was the first time she had ever actually heard him laugh. The sound of it frightened her more.

Who the hell was this man?

She was deeply relieved when he left without a backwards glance at her.

But also deeply sad.


	4. Ch4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s note: thank you for all the kind remarks so far; it really does help keep me going! I’m rating this chapter T for Teen for a tiny bit of, ahem, suggestiveness.  
> In case you’re curious at this point I’m envisioning somewhere around 6-7 more chapters to tell this story. So with no further ado, on to chapter 4!

Ch.4  

    Marla ordered another cup of coffee from the synthesizer and took it with her to the small sitting area in her room.

   The blinking lights on her tablet demanded that she get back to work.  She ignored them and picked up her sketchbook.

   During breaks in her research she’d taken to sketching Harrison.  She was surprised she could do so easily just from memory.  But she could.

   She picked up a pencil and set to work, trying to shift focus long enough that her mind could pick apart the threads of the problem for her.  She had a feeling there was something important she wasn’t seeing, something just below the surface.  Something her subconscious had been trying to tell her but that she couldn’t yet quite see…

   Marla’s time was still consumed with her work on the contents of the Botany Bay.  She estimated she had another month of work ahead of her.  She certainly didn’t need to be taking on any additional research projects.

   Yet she had.

   Since their unfortunate encounter in her lab Marla had been more puzzled about Harrison than ever.  His behavior had been so odd, so unlike any Starfleet personnel she had ever met, that she’d decided to do some digging.  At first she’d told herself it was only to help her better understand him.

   They hadn’t met again since it had happened.  She was still digging.  What did that mean?

   “It means I hate mysteries,” she grumbled to herself as she sketched.  She’d come at the problem with research skills honed by years of practice.  And she kept coming up empty.

   Oh, Harrison was in the computer system as Starfleet personnel.  Or at least his name and photograph were.  All the other details, the computer had claimed, were classified, and thus Marla could not access them.

   No historian worth his or her salt would have given up that easily.  So she’d changed her plan of attack.  Instead of trying to use Starfleet records she’d tried civilian records on Earth.  He’d told her he’d grown up in India, so that’s where she had started.

   She’d found nothing.  No birth records, no information on his parents, his schooling, his acceptance into Starfleet Academy…She’d then broadened her search to Britain, where there were certainly more ‘John Harrison’s in the records.  She’d even tried multiple spellings of his name in case there had been an error somewhere.  But she’d found no one who would be the right age and have the right service record to be the man she knew.  After a few nights’ work she admitted defeat. 

   That had suggested something new to her—his possible involvement in Section 31. 

   Of course Starfleet insisted Section 31 did not exist.  So did the Federation.  And Marla had never actually met anyone connected with that organization.  At least, she had never met anyone who had been willing to admit it.

   But every human society in the past had had some sort of clandestine organization that operated behind the scenes and carried out the dirty work of those in power.  On 20th Century Earth alone there had been several: the CIA, the KGB, and so on.  She had never seen any reason to assume the Federation would not have something similar.  For more than a century rumors had swirled that Section 31 was the Federation’s secret branch, carrying out its own agenda behind closed doors.

   Over the last several weeks she had become convinced that the installation where she was currently working had to be, at least in part, one of their operations.  Why else would the discovery of the Botany Bay have been kept from the press and from other scholars?  Why else would so many floors be inaccessible?  Why else would it have a Starfleet agent assigned to it?

   However, a problem remained.  If Harrison was a Section 31 agent, did that help explain his rather extraordinary behavior?

   Marla wasn’t sure it did.  It certainly wouldn’t explain his attitude about Admiral Marcus.  Section 31 agents, she theorized, would have to have absolute respect for authority in order to carry out their assignments.

   Harrison was many things.  But respectful of authority?  She thought not. 

   So she’d shifted her focus yet again, searching Marcus’ records instead.  Here she found exactly what she’d originally expected to find for Harrison.  Marla had read the Admiral’s academic records; of his long and decorated service career; and of his commendations from Starfleet.  She’d even found information about his deceased wife and adult daughter.  Of course there was nothing that would connect Marcus to Section 31, either.  But then there wouldn’t be, would there?

   Marla shook her head.  She hated thinking like this.  It reminded her of the conspiracy theorists she’d run into from time to time on the streets of San Francisco.  They’d push their homemade pamphlets at passersby and rave that the President was a Romulan or some such nonsense.

   And yet…

  She’d then tried to link the two men to one another.  They must have met somewhere, worked together before, something like that.  Their paths must have connected at some point in the past or they would not both be on the same project now.

  But without Harrison’s service record it was an impossible task.

   Marla now took a deep breath, and concentrated on her sketch.

   For all practical purposes Agent John Harrison did not appear to have existed before Stardate 2258.

   How was that possible?

* * *

 

  Marla stood in the doorway of the mess hall until she spotted her quarry.

  Commander Rhodes was hunched over his breakfast.  He glanced up reluctantly when she approached.  The stocky man looked up at her in mild annoyance as she greeted him.

    “You’re up early today, Doctor,” he observed.

   “I haven’t been sleeping very well,” she admitted.

   “Huh.  Too bad.  Why don’t you get yourself some breakfast?”

   She eyed his plate and then shook her head.  “No, thank you, Commander.  Replicator eggs always taste like replicator eggs to me no matter how much Cardassian hot sauce I put on them.”

   His expression softened a bit and he chuckled.  “You just haven’t been out in space long enough, Doctor.  You get used to it.”

   “I was born on a starship,” she reminded him, “and lived on one until I was ten.  I never did ‘get used to it.’  Some of us are just better sticking close to Earth, I guess.”

   The man shrugged indifferently.

  Marls plowed ahead.  “Forgive me for interrupting your breakfast with business, but I was wondering if you could tell me when the Admiral will be returning?  I have some new findings I’m anxious to share with him.”

   “He’s scheduled to be back early next week.”  Rhodes blotted his mouth with a napkin.  “Shall I see if he can pencil you in for a meeting?”

   “That would be very kind of you, yes.  And will Agent Harrison be with him?”

   The older man looked at her oddly.  “Harrison?  No, Harrison is here, Lieutenant.”

   “Really?”  She blinked innocently.  “I haven’t seen him in two weeks so I assumed he was rotated back to Earth.”

   “No.  He never left the station.”

   “Oh.  My mistake, then.  But do tell the Admiral I’d like to see him if he has the time.”

   Rhodes grunted.  “Will do, Lieutenant.”

   She smiled appreciatively.  “Thank you, Commander.  I’ll let you get back to your breakfast.”

   Rhodes tucked back into his food with gusto.  Marla slipped from the room.  She went back to her own quarters and retrieved her sketchpad.

   “Computer, what is the location of Agent John Harrison’s quarters?”

   “Deck B, room 14C.”

   “Thank you.”

   Marla took the stairs this time, pleased that she passed no one else in the halls.  This early the evening shift was still at work, and the afternoon shift was still asleep.

   When she arrived she carefully propped her sketchpad just next to the doorway so Harrison would be able to find it easily.  But no sooner had she set it down than the doors slid open with a hydraulic hiss.

   With a guilty smile she picked it up again and stood. 

   “Hello, John.  I’m sorry—I was trying to be quiet so I wouldn’t disturb you.”

   He just stared at her.  He looked pale.  Marla wondered if he’d been ill and that was why she hadn’t seen him in so long.

   When he still didn’t speak Marla held up her sketchpad. 

   “I brought you something.  You can call it a peace offering, if you like.”  She flipped to the correct page and handed it to him.  “It came out rather well, if I do say so myself.  I thought you might want it.  But of course, if you don’t, that’s fine, too.  I’m not a professional artist, after all…”

   Harrison looked at the sketch she had made of him in silence for a long moment.

   “I'm honored,” he finally said.  “Thank you.”

   She smiled with relief.  “I’m glad you like it.”

   He seemed to remember himself.  He gestured to the room behind him as he set the sketchpad down on a table.  “Won’t you come in?”

   Marla could see over his shoulder that the room was virtually identical to her own.  The cabin was without any personal adornment at all.  It was one open space, with a small seating area, a tiny bathroom to one side, and a bed in the middle.

    She took a deep breath.  “I don’t think that would be wise.  How about a walk instead?”   

    “As you wish.”

   They crossed B deck and took the turbolift down towards the center of the ship.  Marla had pushed one of the buttons at random.  They ended up on one of the construction decks.  From high above on a catwalk they could look down at the workers busily welding away on what looked to Marla like a nacelle.  Whether they were putting it together or taking it apart she could not tell.

   They stood in silence for a long moment.  Marla had hoped John would feel comfortable enough in her presence to tell her what was troubling him.  But he just stood there in his dark blue uniform, silent as the grave.

   “Did I ever tell you what my mother actually did for Starfleet?”  Marla finally said.

   He turned his face towards her.  “She was a botanist.”

   “Well, yes, but what does a botanist _do_ for Starfleet?  After all, Class M planets that actually contain new plant life in need of identification and cataloging are not that common.  My mother—Maria, was her name--actually specialized in designing, installing and maintaining botanical gardens on starships.  The one she designed and had built on the _Lincoln_ is still considered one of the very best ones in the fleet.”

   As she had expected, this idea amused him.  “Gardens in space,” he said thoughtfully.  “A waste of space on a combat vessel.”

   “But starships aren’t purely for combat—they haven’t been for a long time,” she argued.  “People live _and_ work on them.  Children are born there.  There are weddings and graduations and funerals, just as on Earth.  Starfleet discovered very early on that the longer people were in deep space the more they needed some kind of connection to terra firma.  And maintaining a botanical garden on a starship is not as easy as it sounds.  Plants are much more sensitive to changes in gravitational pull than we are.  And then there’s soil and air quality issues, water needs for plants from a thousand different worlds…it’s an endless amount of work.”

   “I imagine so.”

   “But the good thing is that a garden always gives you some place to go.  If we were on a starship, John, that’s where we could have gone for a walk, instead of here.”  She gestured to the flying sparks below them.

   He gazed at her in silence for a long moment.  “Were you happy on the _Lincoln_?”  He finally asked.

   She nodded.  “That’s why even after my father died my mother and I stayed there.  Starfleet offered her reassignment; a lot of her friends told her she should take me back to Earth.  But the _Lincoln_ was home, and her crew was family.”  Marla smiled. “Assuming they don’t kill each other first, that’s what usually happens when a group of people are thrown together in a small space for a long period of time.” 

    “Yes, I know.” 

   “I’m sure you do.”

   “You never told me how your mother died.”

   Marla blinked.  “Well, no, I haven’t.”

   “She died in service to Starfleet, as did your father.”

   “You’ve been reading my service records again.”  She looked down at her feet for a moment before continuing.  “I’d like to say I’m the only person who lost both parents that way.  But I can’t.” 

   She shook her head.  “When people sign up for Starfleet they know the risks it involves.  My mother was part of an away team that had beamed down to a planet to take some soil samples. The Federation was interested in possibly claiming it.  They ran across a Ferengi scouting party that evidently had the same idea.  Things got ugly, weapons were pulled on both sides, and my mother stepped between the two groups to try and calm things down.  It was exactly the kind of thing she was always doing.  Always the peacemaker, my mother.”

   Marla sighed.  “It wasn’t even the Ferengi who killed her.  It was a stupid accident.  An ensign who hadn’t been in Starfleet more than a month panicked and mistakenly pulled the trigger on his phaser.  His shot went wide and…that was that.  But with her gone I lost my family on the _Lincoln_ , too.  Starfleet policy is to return orphaned children to their nearest living relatives.  That was my father’s father, Finbar McGivers.  I’ve told you about him.”

   “Yes.”

   “I loved my grandfather very much but it was just the two of us after that.  And now he’s gone, too.” 

   She blushed.  “I’m sorry.  Too much detail—you don’t need to know all that.  I guess I’m just feeling nostalgic this morning.”  She glanced around them. 

   “Or maybe floating around in a steel box in space is finally getting to me.  I thought maybe it had gotten to you, too.  I thought you’d gone home, and that was why I hadn’t seen you in awhile,” she admitted.

   “No, I’ve been here.” 

   He did not add the word _unfortunately_ , but Marla could hear it implied in his tone.  She frowned.

   “Then perhaps you should consider rotating back to Earth for awhile, John.”

   His gaze was direct.  “Why?”

   “Because you don’t seem well,” she said honestly.  “I consider you a friend, John, and I’m worried about you.” 

   “I am quite well, I assure you.”

   She shook her head.  “I don’t believe you.”

   The corners of his mouth quirked a bit, as if he was suppressing a smile.  “Don’t you?”

   “No.”  She reached up and laid a hand along the side of his face.  He was clean-shaven, and his skin was cool to her touch.  He smelled like the standard-issue soap she herself had been using, but also of something else, subtle and indefinable, something the primitive part of her brain identified only as _male_.

   This time she was the one to initiate the kiss, but it was every bit as spectacular as the last one. 

   She willingly let John pull her close and deepen the kiss.  When his tongue slid past her lips her whole body sizzled.  She found herself clutching his arms.  

   Heat bloomed deep within her.  She was uncomfortably reminded of how long it had been since any man had made her feel this way…

   Even though they had not yet been observed, both of them were acutely aware of the crew working below. They reluctantly withdrew from one another.

   Marla had been counting on that.  She’d never considered herself a particularly passionate woman.  But she’d known instinctively that if she’d gone into John’s quarters, if she’d kissed him again with a bed that close by, they would have ended up _in_ it.  Then all her careful self-control would have been for naught.

   John clearly knew it, too.

   “You are a stubborn woman, Marla McGivers,” he now told her.  “It seems we are once again at an impasse.”

   “Looks like it.  But at least we’re speaking again,” she said happily. 

* * *

 

     Commander Rhodes came through for her.  He was able to arrange a dinner meeting for her with the Admiral on the night he returned.

   Dinner in the Admiral’s quarters was a sumptuous affair, certainly a cut above what the food synthesizers could come up with.  There was roast capon, new potatoes, vegetables, bread with fresh butter, and even Romulan ale to drink.  Romulan ale was illegal in the Federation, but Marla supposed if anyone could lay their hands on a supply it would be an Admiral.

   She made sure to sip it slowly.  Romulan ale was notoriously strong.

   It was the first time she’d ever been alone with the Admiral.  Truth be told it did feel a little odd.  She’d hardly seen the man since the day she’d arrived.

   Don’t trust Admiral Marcus, John’s voice whispered again in her head.  Don’t trust any of them.

   Why?  Can I trust you?  Her own voice answered him.  You’ve already made it clear that I can’t.

    The Admiral asked her to bring him up to speed on her work, and she obliged.  She explained about cataloging the weapons, and the cross-referencing of the makes and models that had narrowed their origins down to the Asian fields of battle during the Wars.  She then told him about the Battle of Shanghai and the Battle of Jaipur, of the Hong Kong Siege and of the Massacre of the Innocents that had occurred when Saigon had fallen to the genetically altered humans.

   It was not really appropriate dinner-table conversation, but the Admiral seemed interested.

   “And what do you think would have happened, Lieutenant, if the Augments had not taken to quarreling amongst themselves?”  He asked over dessert.  “If they had been able to unite under a common banner?  As we did in the Federation, say?”

   Marla shook her head.  “Everything we know about genetically altered humans suggests that would have never been possible, Admiral.  They may grow fast and have outsized strength and intelligence, but with all that came outsized ambition as well.  Since they couldn’t all be kings and queens they inevitably resorted to trying to kill each other off.”

   “But if it had been possible?  Indulge me.”

   “Well, it’s purely speculation, of course.  But if they had been able to work together under one leader I’d say they would have been unstoppable.  Then the rest of the free world would have fallen to them just as Asia and parts of Europe did.”

   “So you’re glad they failed?”  The Admiral asked her.

   It was a strange question, and Marla had to think about it for a long moment.  “Admiral, I’m a historian.  I try not to get emotional about my subject.  The Eugenics Wars were a particularly brutal and bloody time in our history, and for humans that is really saying something.  But their end also nearly plunged us into a second dark age.  In essence, you’re asking me what’s worse: life under tyranny, or life under chaos?  That’s a question I am not qualified to answer.”

   But her answer seemed to have pleased him.  “Yes.  Tyranny or chaos.  That’s always what it comes down to, isn’t it?”

   “Not always,” Marla reasoned while an ensign cleared the plates and set out coffee cups.  “There’s peace.  Like what we have now.”

   “Ah, peace is a tenuous thing, Lieutenant,” the Admiral said as the ensign filled their cups and then left the room.  “Academics like you have no idea how tenuous.”

   “No, I suppose we don’t.”  Marla sipped her coffee, troubled by the turn the conversation had taken.

   “And your new book?”  The Admiral continued.  “Does it tackle any of these issues?”

   “In a way it does.  It deals with the last year of the Wars, and then the first few years afterwards.”

   “Ah.  You cover the executions, then?”

   “I have to.  And, yes, most of the Augments were executed.  Remember, this was a different time, Admiral.  It was believed to be too dangerous to leave any of them alive.  How could there be peace while they lived?  But actually I don’t regard that part of the story as the focus of my book.  My focus is going to be on the ones who weren’t executed.”

   The Admiral set down his cup.  “Pardon me?”

   “I can’t take all the credit.  It’s been the work of generations of scholars to piece the records together.  But a pretty clear picture is now emerging in my own research.  I estimate that anywhere between eighty and ninety individuals known to have participated in the Wars were unaccounted for in their aftermath.  They just fall completely out of the historical records.  It’s almost like they disappeared.”

   “You don’t say.”

   “I do.”  Marla knew she was probably taking too much, but it was hard not to get excited about her work. 

   “How can you be so sure?”

   “Oh, they all had names.  It always struck me as a bit odd that a human grown in a lab to be a super-soldier would be given a name, but they all were.  We also have the names of those executed, because executions were always held in public to reassure the crowds that the Augments were really dead.  Now we have both lists I’ve been cross-referencing them.  That’s how I found the discrepancy.”

   The Admiral was staring at her.  “Why doesn’t everyone know about this?”

   “Well, my theory is that whatever happened to the others, those who escaped execution, was covered up by the authorities at the time.  They couldn’t let word get out without jeopardizing what little stability society had left.”  Marla frowned.  “Not that it did them much good, because things fell apart anyway.”  

   “This will all be in the new book?”

   She smiled.  “It will.  Along with whatever data you are willing to let me use from my studies here.  Honestly, I cannot thank you enough for bringing me on board this project.  It’s been one of the highlights of my career so far.”

   “I’m glad you’ve gotten so much out of it.  And Agent Harrison hasn’t been too much trouble?”

   “John?  No, John has been fine.”

   “’John’ is it?  I didn’t realize the two of you were on a first name basis.”

   “We have been working together,” Marla explained.  “He’s…well, to be quite honest with you, Admiral, he’s a strange man.”

   “Strange in what way?”

   “I’m not sure how to explain it.  If we were playing chess I’d say he’s always three or four moves ahead of me.”

   “Yes, that’s him, all right.”

   “Is that typical of them, Admiral?”

   The older man’s gaze sharpened.  “Typical of whom, Lieutenant?”

   She was a bit taken aback by his sudden shift in tone.  “Why, Starfleet agents, of course,” she said quickly.  “After all, he’s the only one I’ve ever met.”

   The Admiral pushed away his coffee cup.  “I couldn’t say.  Well, it has been a most stimulating evening, Lieutenant.  But if you will excuse me it’s late and I still have a pile of paperwork ahead of me.”

  Marla got to her feet.  “Of course, Admiral.  Thank you for the invitation and for the lovely meal.”

   He nodded at her and left the room.

   She was left alone, suspecting she’d said or done something wrong, but helpless to understand what that might be.

 


	5. Ch5

Ch. 5

   After sleeping late and grabbing a quick breakfast in her room Marla threw on her jacket and headed over to the lab. 

   As she walked she visualized herself back in her office at the Academy, reworking her book.  It was going to be a groundbreaking work, she was certain of it now.  She couldn’t wait to get started.

   But when she arrived she could see immediately that something was wrong.  Her key card worked, but…

   Her lab was empty.  The tables had been cleared—all of her books, notes, and artifacts were gone.  Even the computers had been removed.

   She stood perfectly still for a moment, too stunned to do anything.  

   “What the hell…?”  She murmured to herself.

   She stepped out and summoned a passing ensign.  “Excuse me, I’m Dr. McGivers.  Do you know if they’ve relocated my laboratory to another floor?”

   The young man shrugged.  “No, I’m afraid I don’t.  Oh, here comes Security.  They’ll know.”  He walked away, and two uniformed security officers approached her.

   “Lieutenant McGivers?”  One asked.

   “Yes.  You’re just in time.  Do you know if…”

   “Ma’am, we have orders to bring you to the Admiral’s office,” he interrupted her.  “Would you come with us, please?”

   “Oh.”  She frowned.  “Yes, of course.”

   As they walked Marla ran through possible scenarios in her mind.  Had the Admiral had her materials moved?  If so, why?  If he’d wanted a closer look at them all he would have had to do was ask.

   Admiral Marcus’ office was in the aft section of the station, away from all the construction noise and debris.  It had glass doors but otherwise the walls were solid steel.  A conference table and chairs were the only furniture in the room.

   The Admiral was waiting for her.  Commander Rhodes and John Harrison were with him.

   The doors slid open and Marla followed the two guards into the room.  A third security guard followed them in.

   Her stomach fluttered nervously.  “Admiral, you wanted to see me?  Is something wrong?”

   “You might say that, Lieutenant.  You might.  Do sit down.”

   She did as he bade.  He sat opposite her.

   She frowned.  “Admiral, I don’t understand.  I just found that my lab has been emptied out.  All the artifacts, the data…gone.”

   “Yes, well, I’m afraid your work here is done, Dr. McGivers.”

   She shook her head stubbornly.  “No, it isn’t.”

   “Oh, it is,” he corrected.  “After our chat at dinner last night it’s become clear to me you know everything you need to know.”

   She was genuinely puzzled.  “Do you mean my telling you about what’s in my book?  That really isn’t that relevant any more, Admiral.  As I started to explain last night I’m going to be rewriting the whole thing based on what I’ve learned since I’ve been here,” she said.  “It will take some time, of course, but…”

   “The project has ended, Marla,” Commander Rhodes told her.  “It was terminated as of 0800 hours this morning.”

   Marla was genuinely disappointed.  But on the bright side she would be able to start writing that much sooner.

   “Oh.  Well, of course that is the Admiral’s decision to make,” she admitted.  “In that case I’m going to need transportation, I’m afraid.  You see I wasn’t planning on returning to Earth for a few more days, Admiral.”

   “Plans change, Lieutenant.”

   “So I see.”  She glanced over at Harrison, but as usual his expression told her nothing.

   The room fell silent.  Finally Marla grew uncomfortable.  “Forgive me, Admiral, but I feel as if I’m missing something here.”

   “We owe you a debt of gratitude, Lieutenant,” Rhodes said.  “Your extensive knowledge has proved invaluable.”

   “Yes, I’m sure it has,” she agreed.

   The Admiral chuckled.  “Lieutenant, I think I’m going to genuinely miss you,” he said as he typed something into his tablet.  “You are a remarkably gifted scholar in your field.  It’s just really too bad no one will be able to follow in your footsteps.” 

   “I don’t understand.  What do you mean?”

   “Thanks to you, as we speak every last bit of information on the Eugenics Wars is being removed from archives around the world and destroyed.”  The Admiral didn’t even bother glancing up as he said this.

   “What?  Why?”  Horrified, Marla put a hand over her mouth.  “You can’t…”

   “This is about the greater good, Lieutenant.  I would have thought you’d recognize that.”

   “’Greater good’?”  She jumped to her feet.  “In destroying priceless historical records?”

   “The world’s done just fine for three hundred years without knowing all the details of the Wars.”  The Admiral shrugged.  “They’ll do just fine without that information now.”

   She forced herself to breath steadily.  Surely this was all a mistake—a horrible, awful mistake.  Surely she could fix this…

   “My life’s work…my book…”  She said, keeping her voice calm.

   “All the copies of your book manuscript have also been deleted from both your own computers and Starfleet’s, as have all of your notes.”  He gestured at one of the security men, who stepped forward and set the broken remains of Marla’s tablet on the table top.  It was little more than fragments now.

   Marla’s control snapped.  “I’ve broken no laws!” She protested.  “I’ve violated no Starfleet orders.  I’ve been a good officer—you have no right to confiscate my research!”

   “You have been a very good officer, and a fine scholar.”  He rose and walked around to her side of the table.  “But sacrifices have to be made.  War is coming, Lieutenant.  We will be prepared, or we will die.”

   “’Sacrifices?’”  Marla didn’t know whether to scream or to cry.  “I don’t understand any of this.  You were the one who recruited me to come here, Admiral!”

   “I did.  And now I’m done with you.”

   A chill ran down Marla’s back.  He couldn’t possible mean what he was saying.  Could he?

   “If anything happens to me you won’t get away with it,” she bluffed.  “My colleagues…”

   “Your colleagues are too busy mourning your untimely death to pay any attention to what happened to your notes.”

   The world seemed to tilt on its axis.  “My death?  What do you mean?”

   The Admiral looked at her with those strange, pale eyes and smiled.

   “You died two days ago in a freak shuttle accident over the North Sea, Lieutenant McGivers.  An explosion, I’m afraid.  Not even anything left to bury.  Your memorial service is scheduled for next Tuesday, I believe.”

   Her legs no longer wanted to support her.  It was all she could do to stay on her feet.

   I’m going to die, she finally realized.  They’re going to kill me.  They’ve already killed me.

   Last night, as they’d chatted amicably over dinner, the Admiral must have already moved to wipe her off Starfleet’s books.  And she’d suspected nothing. 

   Horror threatened to overtake her but she tamped it down.  Her brain frantically tried to put all the puzzle pieces together. 

   She’d thought the only mystery afoot was who Harrison really was. But now she realized it was the Admiral who all along had been the much bigger cipher. 

   ‘War is coming.’  What did he mean, and what did that have to do with Harrison and this research station?  Did Starfleet know what he was up to?  And, if they did, what the hell kind of an organization had she been working for all this time?

   She’s missed all the warnings, ignored all the little things that hadn’t fit because she’d been greedy to get her hands on the artifacts Marcus possessed. 

   And now those hunks of metal were going to cost her her life.

   She tore her eyes away from the Admiral and looked at the others in the room.  The three security personnel gazed back at her without expression.  Commander Rhodes glanced away.  Agent Harrison was somewhere behind her, but she doubted any help would come from that quarter. 

   “Please,” she said to no one in particular.  “You can’t do this.  I haven’t done anything.  Starfleet protocols…”

   Admiral Marcus turned away from her.  “This operation is not under Starfleet protocols, Lieutenant.  Never has been.  You know that.”

   Without thinking about it Marla grabbed a shard from her ruined tablet.  The jagged piece of metal and plastic dug into her right palm, drawing blood.  But she barely felt it. 

   Instinctively she lunged at the Admiral, missing his back by a fraction of an inch before a security officer intercepted her.  He grabbed her wounded hand, twisting it until she was forced to drop the weapon. 

   A second officer punched her in the ribs.  Twice.  Hard.  She dropped to the floor in agony, barely able to draw breath.

   Tears of pain streamed down her face, but she was still able to look up at the Admiral.  He looked almost amused.

   “Kill her,” he ordered.

   Three Starfleet-issued phasers were pointed at her.

   No matter what the Admiral says, it was Starfleet that brought me here, she thought as she closed her eyes and waited for death.  And it’s Starfleet that’s about to kill me.

   “Stop.”

   The voice came from behind her, from the Starfleet agent who wasn’t really a Starfleet agent.

   Marla opened her eyes.  She was still on the floor, still alive.

   “Don’t interfere, John,” she heard the Admiral say.  “She knows too much.  The safest thing to do is to eliminate her.”

   “She may know a great deal,” Harrison corrected.  “But thanks to you she now has no proof of any of it.”

   “She’s served her purpose.”

   “To you, perhaps.  Not to me.  Marla, get up.” 

   The voice did not change tone.  But Marla sensed her life depended on doing what John told her now. 

   She struggled to her feet, one arm pressed against her injured ribs.  She realized she’d split her lip in the fall to the floor.  There was blood trickling down her chin as well as down her injured hand.  Her hair had come undone and was hanging in her face. 

   Am I in shock?  She wondered to herself.  I don’t feel well.  I think I may be in shock.

   Her brain was sluggish and slow, but she kept her eyes fixed on the Admiral.  She tried to stand as straight as her injuries would allow.

   “Oh, I see.”  The Admiral smiled again.  He reached out and took Marla’s chin in his hand.  It was all she could do to keep from biting him. 

   “Are you sure you want her?” He asked John.  “She’s a bit of a mess just now.”

   “She is mine.  She has been mine since the first day she boarded this station.”

   Dimly Marla remembered that first day in the lab, when John had started unpinning her hair.  And she had let him.

   Was that what set all this in motion?  She thought dizzily.  Is he saving my life just so he can kill me himself later?  After he…

   For the first time since she’d been brought into the room Commander Rhodes stepped forward.  “Admiral, surely you don’t condone giving her to this man,” he said.

   Marla blinked at him.  Rhodes had not lifted a finger when she’d been about to be murdered.  But he was objecting now because Harrison might rape her?  What a strange set of priorities the man had.

   Marcus just ignored his assistant.

   “Fine.  Get her out of here,” he told John.

   Harrison tried to take Marla by the elbow, but she jerked away from him.  Searing pain laced down her side again.  “I can walk,” she managed to hiss out from between teeth clenched in pain.

   Reluctantly she followed Harrison to the door.

   “Oh, and Lieutenant?”  The Admiral called.

   Marla glanced over her shoulder.

   “Just so you know.  Make any trouble, any at all, and I’ll have you thrown out the airlock. Understood?”

   “Y-yes, Admiral,” she said.

  “Good.  Dismissed.”

* * *

 

   Marla was proud of herself for getting all the way back to John’s quarters without passing out.  Harrison had led her there, but he had not tried to touch her again.

   She sat on the edge of the bed, wondering idly if her ribs were broken or just badly bruised.

   She stared blankly at the clock on the nightstand, realizing to her amazement it wasn’t even noon yet.  Everything had been normal when she’d awoken.  How could so much have happened in just a few hours? 

   Marla heard water running in the bathroom.  John was in front of her a moment later with a Starfleet standard issue first aid kit and a washcloth in his hands.  He knelt in front of her, wiping away the dried blood on her chin and then carefully washing her injured hand.  The gash was long but not deep.

   “Are there any painkillers in that kit?”  She asked quietly.  “I need them.”

   He handed them to her.  She swallowed them quickly.

   John put a dermal patch over the injury that would help knit the torn skin back together. He worked in silence for a long moment.  When he did finally speak, he said something she did not expect.

   “What do you want to do now?”

   “’Do?’’ She echoed.  “What do I want to do?”

   “Yes.”

   Marla closed her eyes, trying to get her mind to function again.  “I want…I want…”

   Her eyes opened.

   “I want Admiral Marcus dead.”

   “Good.”  John finished bandaging her hand.  He pressed it between his own until she winced.  “So do I.”

   She looked directly into his blue eyes.  “I know who you are, you know.”

   “Do you?”  He smiled amusedly.

   “Yes.  I figured it out more than a week ago. I didn’t say anything because I didn’t think Marcus or Rhodes would believe me without hard proof.” She paused.  “If I’d told them my suspicions I’d be dead already, wouldn’t I?”

   “You would,” John agreed.

   “Very few photographs survived,” Marla observed idly.  “We talked about that a lot, in my field—‘oh, isn’t it too bad we don’t have more images from the wars’?”

   “Hmmm.”

   “But we had descriptions of events, places.  People even.  Some of them are pretty accurate.  Uncannily accurate, you might say.”  She looked in his eyes.  “Turns out I wasn’t just sketching from my own memory after all.”

   John neatly folded the washcloth and laid it to one side.  He took her hands in his own again.

   “Then tell me my name, Marla.  My real name.”  He reached up and placed one impossibly strong hand on the side of her face.  “I want to hear it from your lips.”

   She stared at him for a long moment without speaking.

   “Khan,” she finally offered.  “Your name is Khan.”

   He smiled at her

   “You are indeed a superior woman, Marla McGivers.” 

   He eased her back against the pillows, an action that to her surprise didn’t alarm her nearly as much as it should have. 

   “Sleep now,” he told her. 

   Exhausted from her ordeal and with the painkillers rapidly taking effect, Marla found she could do nothing but comply.

* * *

 

   When she opened her eyes she knew instinctively that several hours had passed.  Her head felt like it was stuffed with cotton, and her mouth was dry.  To her relief she saw a glass of water sitting on the nightstand.

   She sat up gingerly.  It hurt, but not as much as she expected.  No broken ribs, then, she thought absently.  She drank the water greedily.

   John—Khan—was still in the room.  He was working at the computer station.  For a moment she just stared at him.

   It had been one thing to have a wild idea about who he really was.  She now found, however, that was quite another to have it confirmed.

   For four years, at the height of the Eugenics Wars, Khan had ruled over nearly one quarter of the Earth, his empire stretching from Asia to the Middle East.  His rule had been relatively stable by the standards of the time: there had been no massacres, and no wars until human forces had attacked him.  Khan had been the very last of the tyrants to be overthrown.

   Then he had disappeared.

   Only to reappear almost three hundred years later on a secret Section 31 installation, working for an Admiral who was most likely insane.

   Marla rubbed her eyes. 

   She still wasn’t sure how it had happened, but apparently she was now Alice in Wonderland.  She’d fallen down the rabbit hole and she had no way to climb out.

   Even as a child she’d hated that book…

    Khan noticed she was awake and brought her a tablet.  “Your obituary has been posted, if you’d care to read it.”

   She shuddered.  “No, I do not.”  She hesitated before reaching out to take it from him.

   He noticed her hesitation.  “Are you afraid of me now?”

   “No.”

   “You should be.”  He studied her calmly.  “After all, your own history regards me as, what was the phrase?  ‘A psychotic despot who terrorized humanity?’”

   Marla cringed.  “Please don’t quote the late Dr. Ibrahim’s work.  He was a fine scholar but he and I never quite saw eye to eye on our interpretation of events.  _I_ never called you psychotic.”

   “No.  You called me a megalomaniac.”

   “And, for the moment, I’m standing by that.”  She stared at him again for a long moment.  “How is it even possible you’re here?  Obviously you fled Earth in the _Botany Bay_ , I get that, but where did you think you were going?”

   “Marla, we were condemned as criminals and forced into exile.  We were headed for some uncharted planet where we could rebuild without…interference.  We planned to eventually return to Earth when things were different.”  

   His posture was straight as he stood before her, his stance firm.  He seemed more at ease with her now she knew his true identity.

   Marla’s mouth dropped open.  “’We’?  There were others?”

   He nodded.  “My crew.”

   She swung her feet over the edge of the bed and stood up, leaving the tablet behind.  “The missing six dozen Augments!  You took them with you!” 

   He smiled.  “Yes.”

   Khan wasn’t alone.  Her mind reeled at the implications. 

   One augment was dangerous.  More than one…

   She raked her hands through her disheveled hair.  “God, I’ve been such an idiot!  They should revoke my doctorate!” She paused.  “But, Khan, a sleeper ship like the Botany Bay was never designed to support life for hundreds of years…”

   “It was never my intent that it should do so.  Whatever malfunction set us adrift also caused eight of the individual life support systems to fail before we were found.”

   His voice was rough when he said this.  Marla reminded herself that these were men and women he had known.  To him those deaths would have been as fresh as if they had happened days and not decades ago.  As the group’s leader he would have felt it all the more acutely. 

   “I’m so sorry.” She placed a hand on his arm.  “OK, so Starfleet found you.  By accident or by design?”

   “Marcus maintains it was accidental.”

   “He might be telling the truth.  After the mess with Nero Starfleet has been aggressively searching even the most distant quadrants of space, looking for potential dangers,” she admitted.  Then she frowned.  “Section 31 isn’t stupid—they must have quickly figured out who you were.  But the Admiral still had you woken from cryogenic sleep?”

   “He did.”

   “Why didn’t he wake the others…No, never mind, of course he wouldn’t—that would be too dangerous, even for a madman like Marcus.”  Marla turned away and refilled her water glass.  She took a deep gulp before continuing.  “But he woke you, and kept you awake.  What did he want from you?”

   “He wants a war, Marla.”

   “A war?  With whom?”

   “The Klingon Empire.”

   She was stunned into silence for a long moment.

   “No, that’s…that’s…intergalactic war!”  She was finally able to say.  “That will make World War III look like a playground spat!”

   “I assume so, yes.  You’ve met Marcus, observed him.  You can perceive that he wants a militarized Starfleet above all things.  A war will bring him that.”

   “With himself at its head, yes.”  She paused.  “And you’re covering the ‘militarized’ part of things, I assume?”

   “I’ve provided my knowledge of and experience in warfare in return for preserving the lives of my crew.”

   “Hostages.  Charming.”  Marla set down her glass and picked up the tablet again.  “And now he’s got my research too.  Based on the specs I’ve given him he’s probably already reverse engineering all the weapons he needs, only this time without all the 20th century bugs.”

   Khan nodded. 

  She rubbed her face, still trying to figure out when and how she’d landed in this nightmare.  She quickly scrolled through several screens on the computer.

   “I wouldn’t bother.  They’ve locked you out from all your access points.”

   Marla didn’t look up from her work.  “Can you get me back in?”

   “No. I’ve tried.”

   He was telling the truth.  Every account she had ever had was locked.  There was no way to reach anything that had once been hers.  Her service records, bank accounts, communications, research notes: it was all gone.

   _She_ was gone.

    Marcus had been thorough, that was for sure.

   She put it down again.  “John—Khan—I appreciate what you did for me this morning.  I really do,” she said slowly.  “But you do realize that at most you’ve bought me, what, a week, maybe two, before Marcus kills me anyway?”

   “Yes.

   “There has to be someone who can help me…”

   “There is no one.  Every member of Starfleet personnel you have met here is also Section 31.  They believe in Marcus’ vision without question and follow him in all things.  The civilians who work here are paid well for their loyalty and their silence.”

   Marla was tempted to weep for a moment, until she remembered this was no longer just about her own life.

   “Khan?”  She asked tentatively.  “Your crew?  Where are they now?”

   His expression darkened.  “My surviving crew were transferred into stasis chambers and kept here under heavy guard.  I soon came to realize, however, that Marcus had no intention of reviving them.  And as long as they were helpless the Admiral held the upper hand.  I resolved to smuggle them off this station to safety.”

   “How?”

   “When I designed new photon torpedoes for the Admiral I made certain each was large enough to also contain a stasis chamber.”

   “That’s…rather ingenious.”

  “I thought so.”  He took her hand.  “And that is where you enter the picture, Marla.” 

  “Me?  How do I fit into this?”

   “Marcus wanted you here not just for your expertise.  If anyone would have been able to recognize 20th century weaponry deployed in the 23rd it would have been you.  He had to make sure you did not know too much.”

   She shook her head ruefully.  “As it turned out I knew just enough to be dangerous.”

   “Exactly so.  But for me your arrival provided enough of a distraction to move forward with my plans.  The Admiral and his minions were so busy fretting about you that for once I was able to operate more or less undetected here.”

   “But something went wrong.”  Marla understood where he was going.  “Two weeks ago?  Around the time you seemed to disappear?”

   He scowled.  “As always, you are very perceptive.  My plan was discovered, and the torpedoes with my crew inside them taken from me, taken to Earth.”

   She held her breath.  “And destroyed?”

   “I do not know.  In all likelihood, yes.”

   “I’m so sorry, Khan.  I know that’s not really an adequate thing to say in these circumstances but I truly am.”  She was thoughtful for a long moment.  “However…”

   He caught the change in her tone and released her hand.  “Yes?”

   “I think you may be mistaken about Marcus destroying them.  Your crew is the greatest leverage he has against you.  Maybe he just wants you to think the chambers have been destroyed.”   

   He shook his head.  “Marcus’ plans are nearly complete.  My crew was of no further use to him.  I have no doubt that when the time comes he will attempt to eliminate me as well.”

   “What are you going to do?”

  He smiled again, that cold smile that sent shivers down her spine.

   “I am going to escape to Earth.  And you are going to help me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the cliffhanger! How will Marla get out of this one? Stay tuned...and please review!


	6. Ch6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the delay in getting this next chapter up: I’ve been traveling a lot for work this month and it’s slowed things down. But I’m back for the time being, so here we go!  
> As always, if you like please read and review.

Ch. 6

   Marla laid her head against the plastic tile in the shower as hot water sluiced down her back.

   It was a good place to think, the shower.  And she had a bit of childish hope that she might deprive Admiral Marcus of some hot water if she stayed in long enough.

   Almost two days had passed since she’d nearly been executed.  She hadn’t left Harrison’s—Khan’s—room since then.  She was frankly terrified that the moment she stepped into the corridor Starfleet security would appear and finish what they’d started.

_Make any trouble, any at all, and I’ll have you thrown out the airlock,_ Marcus had said.

   For the last two nights she’d had long, drawn-out nightmares of a slow death by suffocation.  The circles under her eyes were now the same charming shade of blue as the bruises on her ribs and on her injured hand.

   Khan has been her savior, in more ways than one.  He’d given her a problem to occupy her mind before her fear and anxiety could drive her mad.

   She’s promised to help him get back to Earth. 

   It had been a rash thing to do.  She might have been in Starfleet for years, but she was no secret agent.  She probably knew less about how to bypass Starfleet’s systems and protocols than Khan did.

   She’d told him that in a fit of pique the night before.

   He’d only gazed at her mildly.  “You have already proven yourself a clever woman, Marla,” he’s said before turning his attention back to the computer monitor before him.  “I have faith in you.” 

   “I’m glad one of us does,” she now grumbled to herself as she finally turned off the water.  She toweled off quickly and spared only a glance at her reflection in the small mirror.  She looked like a wild woman, all bruises and wide eyes and tangled hair.

   _No wonder he hasn’t tried to lay a hand on me_ , she thought ruefully. 

   Because the Augments had focused so much of their energy on war and conquest historians didn’t know much about how they had viewed sex.  But there was strong evidence in the record to suggest that ordinary humans had often offered themselves quite freely as potential sexual partners.  And why not?  The genetically-enhanced humans had been—were—beautiful, strong, and charismatic.  She vaguely recalled reading somewhere that some rulers, perhaps even Khan himself, had actually kept harems. 

   Why would someone like that want someone like her?    

_Good thing I’m not in an amorous mood anyway,_ she thought as she yanked a comb through her wet hair.  The strands snapped and snarled under the teeth. 

      Actually, she did have at least some idea of what Khan was up against.  She was a student of Earth history, after all, and she’d sometimes had lunch with acquaintances in the Strategic Security Department back at the Academy.

     Of all of Starfleet’s many security protocols, none was older or more carefully protected than the shields around Earth itself.  Originally designed with help from the Vulcans, the shields prevented any unauthorized arrivals or departures from the planet. 

   For more than a century the shields had been accessible only with a series of codes.  Only those highest up in Starfleet and the Federation had access to them.

   Then the Romulan Nero had captured and tortured a Starfleet captain until he surrendered those codes. 

   No one, least of all Marla, blamed the captain (what had his name been—Pool?  Peters?  Something like that) for what had happened.  But with the codes Nero had very nearly succeeded in destroying Earth as he had destroyed Vulcan.

   So in the last year the procedures had all been changed.  The scuttlebutt around the Academy had been that the codes were now divided into two parts.  One half was provided to Starfleet and civilian captains who needed to cross the shield.  The other was provided to security teams down on Earth.  In order to gain clearance the correct half had to be given by the shuttle or starship.  Then and only then would the other half of the code be entered by someone on the Earth’s surface.

   It was simple, but effective. 

   She threw on a bra, panties, and a robe and went into the main living area.  She had no idea where Khan was, and hadn’t felt it appropriate to ask.  But she wasn’t about to wander around in just her underwear.

   Marla turned her mind back to the matter at hand.  She was willing to admit that under the old system maybe, just maybe, she or Khan might have been able to lay their hands on a code to get them through Earth’s defenses.  But now?  Impossible.

   “Impossible,” she sighed to herself as she ordered a cup of coffee from the replicator.  The unit was so small it couldn’t make a full meal.  So far food had been delivered to her on trays from the mess hall.  She hadn’t eaten any of it.

   The door chimed, startling Marla so badly she dropped the hot drink.  It splashed across the floor, just missing her bare legs.

   Khan would have just walked in.  And Marla was well aware that thanks to the Admiral she didn’t have another friend on the station.

   The chime sounded again.  Marla pulled her robe closer around her.   Her heart was beating so loudly she could feel it inside her skull.

  Finally, reluctantly, she spoke.  “Come in.”

   The computer relayed her words to the door mechanism and it slid open.

   Captain Rivers was standing there.  Marla hadn’t seen the slim man who’d originally recruited her for more than a week.  She had no idea why he was here now.

   “Did the Admiral send you?”  She demanded.

   “No, he did not.  May I come in?”

   Marla glanced at the man’s hands.  They appeared to be empty.  But she knew phasers and other weapons were easy to conceal.  There was no way to be certain.

   She straightened her back.

   “If you must.”   

   He followed her inside.  She could see his eyes track from the rumpled bedding to the clothes scattered about.  The mess was in fact entirely Marla’s, but she didn’t feel inclined to tell Rivers that.

   He eyed her robe.  “Would you like to get dressed?”

   Marla bristled.  Her clothes had been brought down from her old room.  But since they were mostly versions of her red uniform she’d been reluctant to wear them.  Instead she’d been living in a grubby t-shirt and an old pair of trousers.  But she’d be damned if she changed even into those for this man.

   “I’m comfortable like this,” she lied.  “Now state your business and get out.”

   With a false casualness Rivers went over to the computer.  He glanced at it but the screen was dark.

   “Where’s Harrison?”

   “He isn’t here, as I’m sure you know.  And that isn’t his name.  You should call him Khan.”

   The older man frowned.  “Is that what you call him?”

   Marla just stared at him coldly.

   After a moment he sighed.  “Marla…”

   “Dr. McGivers,” she corrected.

   “Fine.  Dr. McGivers.  I wanted you to know…”  He paused.

   She was growing irritated.  “Yes?”

   “That is, I want you to know that I…I didn’t agree to this.  To any of this.”

   She stared at him.  “OK.”

   “OK?”  He echoed.

   “Yeah, OK.  You can go now.”

   “You don’t believe me?”  The man’s mocha colored face darkened with anger.

   “I believe you follow the Admiral’s orders.  The Admiral told you to bring me here, so you brought me here.  The Admiral told you to lie to me, so you lied to me.  The Admiral …”

   “I never agreed to having you killed.”

   “Bully for you.”

   “And I never agreed to giving you to Khan.”  He glanced briefly at the bed again, his gaze quickly skittering away.  “I have daughters of my own.  I would never…”

   Marla hastily stifled a stunned laugh.  First Rhodes, now Rivers!  Was everyone on the station obsessed with her sex life?

   Of course the Captain didn’t know Marla had thus far been occupying the bed alone.  Khan hadn’t touched her, and he didn’t seem to need to sleep.  Or at least he hadn’t so far.

   She felt a fierce stab of satisfaction at Rivers’ discomfort.  It was cruel, she knew, but she decided to twist the knife a bit.

   “It’s a little late for you to get upset.”

   He shifted uncomfortably.  “If I had been here…”

   “What, you would have reasoned with the Admiral?  Protected my virtue?”  She mocked.  “And, now, what, you feel sorry for me?”

   “I do.”

   “Don’t feel sorry for me!”  She hissed through clenched teeth.  “Help me!”

   But he just shook his head.  “I can’t.”  He took a breath.  “Is he..hurting you?”

   Marla then did something that surprised even herself.  She pulled open one side of her robe.

   Rivers sucked in his breath as he saw the technicolor mass of purple, green, and blue bruises down her side.  They were the same ones left by Starfleet security’s fists.  But she wasn’t about to tell him that.

   “What do you think?”  She said.

   He blanched and swallowed.

   “I’m…”

   “Yeah, you’re sorry.”  She quickly closed her robe and knotted the sash.  “I know.”

   The door slid open again.  Khan entered.  If he seemed surprised to see Rivers there he did not show it.

   “Captain.  May I help you with something?”  He asked.

   When the officer did not answer Khan glanced at Marla.

   “The Captain was just leaving,” she said shortly.

   “Of course.”  Khan came to stand next to her and laid a hand on her shoulder.

   Marla knew Khan made the gesture to reassure her, and she appreciated it. 

   But she was also delighted to realize that Rivers read the gesture as one of possession.  She could tell by how the older man’s scowl deepened.

   “Dr. McGivers.  Agent Harrison.”  Rivers nodded, his vowels clipped as he spoke.  He left the room as abruptly as he came.

   Khan raised his eyebrows.

   “It’s nothing,” she told him.  “I’ll explain later.

* * *

 

   It was later than evening when the note arrived.  She hadn’t intended to eat anything on the meal tray this time either.  But fortunately she’d picked up the water glass to fill it.  The note had been concealed underneath.

   She read it and then re-read it.  Finally a slow smile spread across her face.

   She turned to Khan.

   “I know how we’re going to get you back to Earth.”

 


	7. Ch 7

Author’s note: OK, folks, I know it’s been a looooog time since I updated this story, and I do apologize for that.  But there was a method to my madness: I didn’t want to update until I could actually finish the story for those of you who have held in there so long.

So, without further ado, I present the last four chapters, plus epilogue, of our adventures.  May you live long and prosper—unless Khan gets to you first:)

 

Ch. 7

   Marla had never been space-sick before. 

   She had always assumed this was because she had been born in space, and because modern engineering had made flight, even in a small shuttle like the one she was currently in, relentlessly smooth.  If it wasn’t for the movement of the stars outside one wouldn’t even know they were moving.

   Still, in the simulators at the Academy she had seen enough people tossing their cookies into airsickness bags to know the human brain could not always be tricked.  It always knew you were hurtling through space, no matter how easy the ride.

   Of course, she recognized that it was probably stress, not the ride, which now had her stomach doing somersaults within her. 

     Captain Rivers had come through for her.  He’d gotten her a fake ID and a place on a long-range shuttle back to Earth.  In his note he had promised her he would get her home, and twenty-four hours later she had been in the shuttle bay, nervously waiting for approval to board from a security team.

    She had half-expected the ID that had mysteriously appeared with her breakfast that morning wouldn’t withstand the scrutiny of a scan.  But the officers had barely glanced at her shapeless coveralls and hard hat (also procured somehow, from somewhere, by Rivers) before waving her aboard.

   Barring technical issues the flight would take three hours.  Three hours until she was safely back on dry land and, hopefully, beyond the reach of Admiral Marcus.

   It was a small shuttle, with room for only six passengers.  It was mostly empty this early in the day.  She was thankful neither the two other passengers nor the two civilian pilots seemed interested in chatting.  In her condition she couldn’t have made small talk if she had tried.

   The hours crept by.  Every moment she expected a security klaxon to ring, to be discovered.  But nothing happened. 

   She wished she had some sort of nervous habit she could use to keep herself occupied, like nail-biting or hair-twirling.  Instead she sat on her hands lest their anxious fluttering give her away. 

     They passed Jupiter, then Mars, the moon, and finally the beautiful blue ball of Earth appeared in the forward view screen.  Marla wanted to scream for joy. 

  But she wasn’t safe yet.  She could see the colorless rim of the defensive shield glinting in the sunlight.  Hundreds of ships were moored just outside of it, with perhaps a hundred more just inside of it.

   Starfleet.

   She nearly leapt from her seat when the con at last crackled to life.

   “Shuttle Omega 41-3, state your destination,” a disembodied voice demanded.

   “Earth, we are inbound from Jupiter with two crew and three civilian construction personnel.  Bound for Epislon Base, London.  Work order T-77456.”

   “Confirmed, Omega 31-3.  Code?”

   Marla held her breath.

   “5553-R-888D4,” the pilot rattled off lazily from his PADD.

   A long moment passed.  Marla glanced reluctantly at the warships outside.  She knew the protocol.  All it would take was one misstep, one photon torpedo, and the shuttle would be blown to bits, and her along with it.

   “Code confirmed, Omega 41-3.  Stand by for remaining sequence.”

   Marla heard the soft electronic burble of data being transferred: the other half of the code arriving from Earth’s surface, she surmised.

   Sure enough the shield’s opening slid forward, and they began their descent to Earth’s surface.

   Rivers had not asked her where she wanted to be dropped off, and she had not asked where the shuttle was going.  Her former life, her apartment, her possessions, was in San Francisco.  But she was sure they were all long gone by now, thanks to Section 31. 

   Right now London seemed as good a destination to her as any.  Epsilon Base was not much more than a glorified depot on the outskirts of the great city.   She was confident that she could slip away unnoticed as soon as they landed.

   To do what, exactly?  She wasn’t sure.  She had her promise to Khan to keep, of course, and she did not intend to break it.  But then what?  Go to Starfleet?  Go to the press?  See if any of her former colleagues could help her?  Or just disappear into the faceless mass of humanity in that teeming former capitol?

   She could see the continents below them take shape through the clouds, and then the British Isles separate themselves from Europe.  She could soon see the highways and flight paths feeding into London, like great black arteries, carrying people and goods into it and away from it.

   For the first time in many days she allowed herself to feel a tiny bit optimistic. 

   And so, of course, everything went wrong.

   She was just beginning to be able to make out the landscape below them when she chanced to glance up and saw a phaser pointed at her head.  The co-pilot was holding it, smiling at her.

   “What the hell…?”  She asked.

   “You didn’t think it would be that easy, did you?”  He responded.

   Marla took a quick glance around her.  The other two passengers did not seem surprised at the turn of events.

   “Did Rivers set me up?”  She asked quietly.

   “Who?”  The co-pilot chuckled.  “No one set you up, lady.  But Earth just transmitted a warning to all inbound shuttles about a fugitive being sought by Starfleet.  Female, red hair, about five nine—sound familiar?”

   Marla cursed silently.  In a few more minutes they would be on the ground.

   “I’m innocent,” she said, more to herself than to anyone on the shuttle.

   “That’s what all traitors say,” the shuttle pilot said, not even bothering to turn his head and look at her.

   She looked over at one of the passengers sitting by stoically.

   “Sorry, lady,” the burly man said with a shrug.  “But we’re not getting involved.”

   Marla sighed.  “No, I’m the one who’s sorry.”

   “What, sorry for betraying Starfleet?”  The co-pilot asked.

   “No. I’m sorry for what he’s going to do to you,” she said honestly.

   With that she unbuckled herself from the seat and dropped to the floor of the shuttle.

   It all happened so fast that she was never entirely sure exactly what happened first.  She knew the co-pilot fired at her and missed, and that before he could get off a second shot Khan had emerged from wherever he’d been concealed and had snapped the man’s arm backwards.

   The co-pilot howled in pain as the bone broke.  Then he stopped howling as Khan crushed his trachea.

   Both passengers also unbuckled, not doubt planning on trying to subdue the stranger.  It wasn’t an entirely bad plan—there were two of them, and they were both big men used to physical labor.

   Marla half-rolled, half slid towards the console as the pilot panicked and the shuttle fishtailed dangerously.  They were only perhaps a thousand feet from the ground now.

   The pilot frantically pushed buttons to try and level them out while simultaneously trying to hail someone on the ground.  His restraints unhooked as he tried to lift the phaser from his belt.

   “Mayday!  This is shuttle Omega 41-3!  Mayday!  We have an emergency…!”

   Marla didn’t think twice.  She grabbed ahold of the pilot’s head and slammed it as hard as she could into the console.  She heard the sickening crunch as his nose broke, and blood was streaming down his face as he seemed to bounce off the plastic and metal before him, his eyes wide with surprise and fear.

   She slammed his head down again.  This time she felt more bones give way.  The body in her hands went slack.  She shoved him out of the seat and jumped into the vacated spot, the emergency restraints quickly activating and forcing her against the seatback.

   The roaring in her ears drowned out every other sound in the cabin.  The console was sticky with blood but she successfully deactivated the comm.

   “Khan, it’s going to be a hard landing!”  She yelled as the trees rushed up below them.

   Her hands worked frantically at the board, trying to remember everything she’d learned in emergency procedure drills back at the Academy.  The shuttle dipped sharply to one side, and then to the other, until she finally got it under control.

   And not a moment too soon.  An open pasture appeared below them, and Marla piloted them sharply downward.

   The landing gear bounced hard against the soft surface, then again more gently.  On the third try it successfully made contact.

   They were on the ground.

   Marla sucked in a sharp breath and cut the power to the engines.

   For a moment she sat still, her hands shaking so much she couldn’t deactivate the restraints.  Finally she got them loose and stumbled to her feet.

   “I wasn’t sure you’d even gotten on board,” she told Khan now.  She was careful to avoid looking at the four bodies now sprawled across the shuttle floor.

   “I told you I would,” he said plainly.  He was opening the overhead bins.

   “What are you doing?”  She asked curiously.

   “We need supplies.”  As he stuffed items into a knapsack Khan nodded toward the body of the pilot.  “Take his phaser.”

   Marla reached down and drew the phaser out of the pilot’s belt.  It was fully charged.

   She pressed the button to open the shuttle door and stepped down.  Outside the sky was blue and the air smelled sweetly of grass and hay.

   She took a deep breath.  When Khan joined her she peered at him calmly.

   “Shouldn’t I be more upset?”

   “About what?”

   “Khan, I just killed a man.  With my bare hands.  I mean, you killed three and you don’t feel bad—I get that.  That’s you.  But I’ve never killed anyone before.”

   He regarded her steadily.  “You feel no regret?”

   “No, I don’t.  It was him or me.  I just…I just feel like I _should_ feel something.  It’s bothering me that I don’t.”

   “We can discuss the ethics of close-quarters killing another time, Marla,” he told her.  “Right now authorities will have noticed the shuttle has dropped off their screens and will be about to launch a search for it.”

   “Yes, you’re right.  I assume you have a plan?”

   “I’ve reprogrammed the shuttle’s console for self-destruct.  I would suggest that we are not nearby when it activates.”

   “Agreed.”  Marla rubbed her arms, feeling chilled to the bone in spite of the sun.  “Let’s go.

* * *

   

   "Marla?"

   She glanced over at him from the driver’s seat of a hover car they had found not far from where the shuttle had gone down. 

   She was taking them into London—not all the way it; they would have to ditch the vehicle because it could be traced.  But it felt good to do such an ordinary activity after everything that had happened.

   He’d been silent the whole trip this far.  And she hadn’t been inclined to speak.

   “What?”  She now asked.

   “Why do people leave their vehicles unlocked here?”

   Marla had to think about that for a moment.  “I’m sorry, Khan.  I keep forgetting you’re not from this era.  Well, I guess people don’t really worry about them getting stolen anymore.”

   “We stole this one.”

   “Yes, but when it’s recovered the owner will get it back.  Or if we somehow total it he’ll replace it.  Theft is almost non-existent in this time, Khan.  It’s just not something people think about.”

   “That seems rather foolish.”

   Marla sighed.  “Yes, I suppose you’re right.”

   “Where are we heading?”

   “I have a good idea of where we can lay low until we decide what to do next.  So that’s where we’re headed.”

   “I already know what we’re going to do next.”

   Marla blinked.  “Of course you do.  Care to share it with me?”

   “Marla, what would you say if I told you there is a way I can escape beyond the reach of Admiral Marcus, beyond the reach of Starfleet itself?”

   She was quiet for a moment.  “If you were anyone other than you, I’d say you were crazy.  Besides, I thought you wanted to escape to Earth?”

   “Earth was only the first step.  There is a second one.”

   “Of course,” she repeated.  “OK, enlighten me.”

   She kept her eyes on the road ahead of her, but she knew he was smiling at her.

   “Marla,” he asked, “what do you know about transwarp capabilities?”

   “Only that they’re theoretical…oh, wait.”  She smiled as she caught on.  “You’re about to tell me they’re not anymore.”

   “No,” he told her, allowing a little smugness to creep into his voice.  “They are not.”

  

    

  

 


	8. Ch 8

Ch. 8

Author’s note: A sliver of the dialog below is modified from the original “Space Seed” episode, written by Gene L. Coon and Carey Wilber.  And, again, I own nothing.

 

   “Copernicus1543,” Marla said into the security device next to the door.

   “Password accepted,” a tinny female voice responded.  “Greetings, Professor.”

   The door swung open, and Marla gestured for Khan to enter before her.

   “I kept telling that old man to change his password,” Marla grumbled as she closed the door firmly behind them.  Night was beginning to fall, but she still made sure all the draperies were closed.

   “Who lives here again?”

   “Professor Werner Carstairs, an old friend of my grandfather.  He specialized in the history of science, though of course he’s been retired from the University of London for many years now.”

   “Hence he used the publication date of _De revolutionibus orbium coelestium_ as part of his password.”

   “Yes.  I used to house-sit for him all the time when I was younger.  That’s why I know it.”

   Marla turned on only a few lights to their lowest settings.  Fortunately the Professor’s little house was next to the Thames and heavily surrounded by trees.  She doubted any of the neighbors could see them, but she wasn’t taking any chances.

   “And where is the Professor now?”

   “This time of year he’s always in Malta.  He keeps threatening to move there permanently but I’ll believe it when I see it.”

   Marla moved through the tidy space to the small kitchen.  She checked the pantry.  “Are you hungry?  I could warm up some canned soup.”

   She glanced over her shoulder to see Khan looking about him with an expression of curiosity.

   “This is a very strange house,” he observed.

   “It’s a very old house,” she corrected.  “Nineteenth century, to be exact.  It’s even older than you are.  The layout isn’t something you see any more.  See,” she said, pointing, “there’s the parlor, here’s the kitchen, over there is the only bedroom, and I can tell you from personal experience the bathroom is about the size of a Romulan flea.”

   “And people kept these houses?”

   “Oh, yes, houses along the old tow path are still considered very desirable, particularly close to the Thames Barrier as we are now.  But nowadays you can’t get one unless you inherit it, as the Professor did.”

   “I see.”

   Even though Khan had not answered her about dinner she went ahead and heated up the soup.  Neither of them had much of an appetite, but they ate silently in the quiet house anyway.

   Although Marla was glad to be someplace safe, she also felt the awkwardness of once again having to share a small space with Khan.  It wasn’t just that he was a tall man, although he was—it was that his personality, his essence, seemed to fill the room around them.  And, worse, she had come to find comfort in that presence, which couldn’t possibly be a good thing.

   Giving up on the meal she set aside her spoon.  “I think I’m going to go take a shower, if you don’t need me for anything.”

   “Go ahead.”

   She hadn’t been kidding about the bathroom.  The shower stall was barely big enough to turn around in.  But the water was hot.  Marla scrubbed her skin and then scrubbed again, trying somehow to feel clean after the events on the shuttle.  She balled up the coveralls she had been wearing, amazed to see there were only a few small flecks of blood on them. 

   She sighed.  At least they’d kept her civilian clothes underneath clean.  She’d make sure to dispose of them far away from the house in the morning.

   Dressed and with her hair combed she went back out into the parlor.  In her absence Khan has been taking stock of what they’d taken off the shuttle.

   “Did you get anything useful?”  She asked.

   “A few phasers.  Two communicators--I’ve disabled the locators on those.  Some emergency rations.”

   Marla reached into her trouser pockets and held her find out to him.  “I found this is the pocket of the coveralls.  Latinum strips.  Quite a nice sum, actually—Rivers planning ahead again.  So we’ve got some money to work with.”

   “I understood this to no longer be a cash economy.”

   “Officially, no, it isn’t.  But there are still plenty of people who will take latinum with no questions asked, particularly in less reputable neighborhoods.”

   Khan nodded.  “We will need to move from here in the morning.  Suggestions?”

   “I was thinking Camden Town.  North London.  It’s overcrowded and the authorities don’t pay a lot of attention to what happens there.  But there are a lot of markets where you might be able to find whatever it is you need.”

   Marla was still fuzzy on how, exactly, he was planning to recover the experimental transwarp device.  But at this point she was really too tired to ask.

      “An excellent plan.”

   “I aim to please.”  She rubbed her eyes.  “Listen, John—Khan.  There’s something else I wanted to discuss with you.  And I’d better do it now before I fall asleep.”

   In the dim light she could see him pause to gaze at her. 

   “I made a promise to you that I’d help you get back to Earth.  And I’ve done that, haven’t I?”

   He nodded.  “You have.”

   “So now I want you to make a promise to me.”

   He looked both annoyed and intrigued.  “Indeed?”

   She sat down in an old rocking chair next to the fireplace.  “I want you to promise me that whatever happens to me you will get the transwarp device and get as far away from here as possible.”

   “Marla…”

   “No, I’ve been thinking about this a lot in the last few hours.”  She shook her head sadly.  “I’ve gotten lucky so far.  But now both Starfleet and the entire Federation will be after us.”

   They were both silent for a long moment.

  “I’m not an Augment, John.    One good shot, one good hit from a phaser, and I’ll be done for.”

   He regarded her seriously.  “You aren’t going to die, Marla.”

   She smiled a small smile.  “You don’t know that, Khan.  Not even you could know that.  That’s why I want you to promise.”

   It was too dark to read the expression in his eyes.  “Very well, Marla.  You have my promise.”

   “Good.”  She stood again, exhaustion finally overtaking all of her other senses.

   She intended to move past him, but he grabbed her wrist and stopped her.

   “Isn’t there anything else you wish to ask of me, Marla?”

   She blinked.  “No.”

   “I thought perhaps you were going to ask me not to harm anyone else.”

   Marla shook her head.  Even in the darkness she could feel how close he was, could feel his warm breath along the top of her head, ruffling her hair.

   “No.  We’re at war now, Khan, you and I.  I’ve accepted that.”

   “And you won’t question me?”

   “No. I promise.  I’ll do anything you ask.”

   His grip on her tightened, at first imperceptibly and then painfully.  He squeezed her wrist until she was forced to her knees.

   She refused to cry out, though her wrist was throbbing.

   “Anything?”  He asked silkily through the darkness.

   For the second time that day Marla did not hesitate.

   “Anything,” she vowed.

* * *

 

   Camden Town has not changed much since Marla had known it growing up.  Even then it had been a place where anything and everything was available at the right price.

   Her grandfather had once explained to her that this was an outgrowth of the famous market that had once been there (and that still occasionally reappeared in an entirely illegal form before authorities shut it down again).

   The buildings were old, some of them crumbling, and the alleys between them were dark and smelled of dank water.  She could not think of a greater contrast with the gleaming heart of the metropolis just a few miles away.  Intellectually Marla had always known that every Earth city had its grimy underbelly in spite of the Federation’s best efforts to ensure a decent standard of living for every one of its citizens. 

   But it still surprised her every time she actually experienced it for herself.

   Still, it was a good place for the two of them to hide.

   They had made sure to leave the house in the same condition in which they had found it, right down to clean sheets on the bed and refolded towels in the bathroom.  Marla hated to think she might inadvertently cause her old friend any distress, but she knew eventually Starfleet authorities would catch on and find the place.  But as far as she was concerned what had happened there was nobody’s business but her own.  And John’s, she supposed.

   As if thinking about him had summoned him, Khan emerged from a darkened doorway and gestured for her to follow him.

   They went down a short flight of stairs into a small, box-like room.  The landlord was human but as beady-eyed as any alien Marla had ever seen.  He eagerly accepted the latinum strip Khan gave him and then slunk off into the dark.

   Marla looked around her.  There was a table and a few chairs, and a bunk in one corner.  A grimy window admitted only the palest stream of sunlight.  They were below ground level as far as she could tell.

   “It’ll do?”  She asked.

   “It will.”

   Marla nodded.  She had no idea what the landlord thought they were up to: drugs, prostitution?  It really didn’t matter.

   “What now?”

   “Now I need a laboratory.  Most of the supplies I need are basic and I should be able to purchase for the right price.  Others I will need to use other means to obtain.”

   “OK, give me a list and I’ll help.”

   He shook his head.  “I want you to stay here for now, Marla.”

   She frowned.  “Why?  Afraid I’ll slow you down?”

   “You are safer here,” he said shortly.  “And I’ll need your help later so you should rest while you can.”

   Marla tried to pretend she wasn’t blushing just a bit. 

   She wasn’t sorry about what had happened last night.  On the contrary she gloried in the bruises and bite marks she now carried, even if she was sore in places she hadn’t known it was possible to _be_ sore.  If she’d had her druthers she would have shown the world how Khan had marked her, had made her his.

   But there wasn’t time for any of that.  And she’d promised to obey him.

   “OK.  I’ll stay here.  For now.”

   

* * *

 

   “I think hiding a Section 31 facility under the Kelvin Memorial Archives is pretty low.  Clever, but low.”

   Marla observed this idly as she mixed together the two chemicals Khan had given her.  She didn’t know what they were, but she was duly impressed when the combination turned a brilliant shade of green.

   “You know, we had a memorial service at the Academy every year to mark the loss of the Kelvin.  And then another one to commemorate the loss of all the ship’s that went down in Nero’s attacks.  You’d think Starfleet would be a little more respectful of their own history, wouldn’t you?”

   “No, I would not,” Khan observed absently.  He was working on a set of calculations.  “My observations of Starfleet suggest that it often does one thing while professing to do something else entirely.  It was the loss of the Kelvin that began Admiral Marcus on his path to a militarized Starfleet, you know.”

  “In 2233?  He started that long ago?”

   “He never said so in so many words, but that was my interpretation of events, yes.”

   Marla set down the beaker.  In less than a day John has managed to pull together quite an impressive lab for himself.  They even had a computer, although both of them were still locked out of Starfleet’s systems.  John was working on hacking back in, but even for someone of his brilliance that would take time. 

   “I can’t believe no one saw that in Marcus, that no one tried to stop him.”

   “If someone did I doubt very much they still breathe.”   

   “Hmm.  So if Nero had never attacked Starfleet you and I probably wouldn’t be here now.”

   “You most likely would not be.  I, however, would have been found eventually.”

   “But most other Starfleet admirals wouldn’t have had the balls to thaw you out,” Marla observed.

   “Perhaps not.”

   Marla blew out a puff of air in frustration.  “You have to stop him, John.  We may have our own little personal war going, but Marcus can’t be allowed to have his war with the Klingon Empire.  It will be World War III all over again.”

   “Patience, Marla.  First I need the transwarp device.  Then I’ll deal with Marcus.”

   “And you’re sure there’s no simpler way in?”

   “No.  I spent hours reading up on this installation, studying its blueprints.  It’s too well defended for a frontal assault.”

   “Even from you?”

   He smiled.  “Even from me.”

   “I just don’t know how you’re going to find someone on the inside willing to help you.  Anyone who works for Section 31 must have had every aspect of their background scrutinized.  Starfleet would have rooted out anyone susceptible to outside pressure.”

   “Everyone bows to pressure when it’s applied in the right spot.”

   She sighed.  “I hope you’re right.”

* * *

 

   Khan was spying on Section 31.  He was memorizing faces, tracing employee movements, waiting for someone to slip.

   Here he had a distinct advantage of requiring very little sleep and possessing seemingly infinite patience.

   He had procured civilian clothing.  Although London like other major cities had cameras on nearly every street corner Marla did not worry over much about him being discovered.

   There wasn’t a word about him or about her in the press.  But then there couldn’t be, could there?  Officially both Khan Noonian Singh and Marla Alice McGivers were dead.

   She worried about herself instead of about him. 

   Not just about her own mortality, although she had told Khan the truth that she didn’t expect to survive for much longer.  She worried about her very human, very ordinary abilities, and whether she was more of a help or more of a hindrance.

   Above all she worried that she would be the one to slip up, the one to put Khan—her John—in danger.

   On the rare occasions he did sleep, and she was curled up next to him in the narrow bunk with her cheek resting against his back, she thought about all of this.

   Khan would live, she told herself over and over again with a fierce determination in her heart. 

   She would probably die, but Khan would live.

   And then she’d have her revenge.

   


	9. Ch 9

Ch. 9

   Marla was dreaming again.

This time she dreamed of her old life.

_She dreamed she was standing in front of a class at the Academy again, telling them all about the Eugenic Wars, and about Khan._

_She dreamed about the rice pudding served in the faculty commissary, and the way the kitchen staff there would put extra cinnamon on top just for her._

_She dreamed about her colleagues—her friends—and how well they’d all worked together._

_She dreamed about her department chair, portly, kind_ _Laurence Tibbideaux, and how he’d always been the first to slip out of department meetings.  She dreamed about the enormous quantities of wine he’d bring to faculty get-togethers off campus, and about how much he had hated grading papers._

_She dreamed about the many times she had sat behind the desk in his office, working through the stacks of his student’s papers and recording the grades just as a favor to him…_

   Marla opened her eyes with a start.

   “Damn,” she said aloud.

   She quickly rolled to the edge of the bunk and looked around the room.

   Khan was gone again. 

   Marla stood up and immediately went to the computer.  On the screen was the access page for Starfleet.

   She took a deep breath.  Surely the solution couldn’t be that simple.

   Could it?

   Gingerly she typed in Dr. Tibbideaux’s name, and then the password he had given her so she could access his courses on the Academy’s server.

   After a moment the page changed, and she was in the system again.

   She inhaled deeply.  Not as herself, of course, but she was in. 

   And the Academy was part of Starfleet.

 

* * *

 

   Marla found Khan not far from the Kelvin Archives, in a crowded shopping arcade where they usually met when they needed to do so.  They had taken a table at a small café, looking for all the world like just another couple having coffee together.

   “As I’ve said before, you are indeed a superior woman, Marla McGivers,” Khan told her as he studied her handiwork on the tablet before him.

   “Yes, but can you get to where you need to go from here?  I know you were already close to breaking in but the systems should all eventually link up, right?  You can start with the Academy and work your way into Starfleet from there?”

   “I believe so, yes.  I already have the name of the man I need, and I believe I understand what might convince him to aid me.  There is just one more piece of information I need to confirm, and thanks to you I believe I can now obtain it.”

   “Good.  I’m glad, John.  I’m glad it’s almost over.”

   “Oh, no, Marla.  It’s really only beginning.”

   Marla didn’t have a chance to ask what he meant by that before Khan suddenly grasped her hand.

   “Security.  Coming this way.”

   Marla took a deep breath.  “What do we do?”

   “Stand up, slowly.  Move towards the exit.”

   She did as John bade, following him towards the main passageway through the arcade.

   “Do you think we can lose them?”

   “Perhaps.  It’s crowded, and they may not want to risk harming civilians.”

   “Then it’s worth it.  Let’s go.”

   They pushed out back into the crowds.  Marla risked glancing over her shoulder to see that security personnel were following them.  There seemed to be more of them now.

   “John…?”  She asked tentatively.

   “I’m aware of them,” he said shortly.

   “John, you need to go.”

   “No.”

   “John, you’re a hell of a lot faster than I am!  Go!”

   The security forces broke into a run.

   “No.”

   Holding her by the hand Khan sprinted towards the end of the arcade where it emptied back into the street.

   Marla knew what he was thinking: that once outside the bustle of London would swallow them up again.

   But she also knew she was slowing him down.  There were more than a dozen security officers pursuing them, and they were pushing shoppers out of the way.  Alarmed but not certain what was happening many of those shoppers were now standing still, slowing their progress.

   “Halt or we will fire!”  She heard one of the officers shout.

   People started screaming in terror.  Many dropped to the ground where they stood, cowering until they had all rushed past.

   Khan was faster than she was.

   And Khan had to live.

   So Marla did the only thing she could do.

   She took a deep breath, and then let go of Khan’s hand.

   “On the ground!  Now!”  She dimly heard an officer shout at her.

   She ignored him. 

   And then she felt it, the burning pulse of a phaser tearing through the left side of her body.

   It hurt so very, very much more than she had ever imagined.  She could smell scorched fabric and flesh, and realized it was coming from her own body.  There was no blood, for the wound had instantly been cauterized.

   For a moment she was able to hang onto consciousness, watching Khan.  He had nearly reached the street and now looked back at her.

   She wasn’t able to speak, but she knew exactly what she wanted to say to him.

_Run._

_You promised._

_You promised._

   And then the world went black.

* * *

 

   The pain of a hypospray in her neck brought her around again.

   The inside of her mouth tasted like metal and burned things.

   She was in some kind of hospital, and a doctor was running a sensor over her left side.

   The wound felt numb.  In fact her whole body felt numb.

   Until she glanced up into the icy depth of Admiral Marcus’ pale blue eyes.

   “Get away from me!”  She screamed.  At least she tried to scream—in the condition she was in it didn’t come out very loud.

   The doctor looked at her in annoyance.  “Settle down!  We’re trying to help you.”

   “You don’t know…don’t know…” she managed to gasp.

   Her vision was swimming again.

   Marcus leaned down and took her chin in his hand, squeezing hard.

   “Where is he?”

   Marla’s eyes filled with tears.  She knew there was only one reason why Marcus would have to ask that.

   Her John was safe.

   “I don’t know,” she told the Admiral.

   The Admiral thrust two fingers downwards into her wound.

   She screamed in agony.  She didn’t think anything could be worse than being hit with phaser fire but this was it.

   “Tell me where he is!”

   “No,” she spat out through gritted teeth, earning her another searing jab.

   The doctor tried to look unruffled, but she could tell he was appalled.  “Admiral, please!  You said you wanted her alive, and I’m trying to keep her alive!”

   “Oh, she’ll stay alive.  She’ll stay alive until the moment I kill her and all the rest of them.”  Though he was speaking to the doctor Marcus never took his eyes from Marla’s face.

   “All the rest of whom?”  The doctor asked.

   Marcus ignored him and waved in two uniformed officers.  They were carrying between them something Marla, from her awkward vantage point, couldn’t immediately identify.

   “Get her stable and loaded,” the Admiral told them.

   Then Marla realized what they’d carried in.

   It was a stasis chamber.  She’d only ever seen them in books but she knew that’s what it was.  And then she knew what Marcus intended.

   “Please,” she gasped.  “Please don’t do this to him.”

   “I’m not doing this to _him_ , Dr. McGivers.  I’m doing this to _you_.  And I just wanted to make sure you were awake enough to know that.”

   One of the officers handed him another hypospray.  Marla tried to push away his hand but was too weak to do so.

   “Good night, Lieutenant,” he told her with a sneer as he depressed the trigger against her skin.  “And goodbye.”

   And all was blackness again.

   


	10. Ch 10

Ch. 10

Eight months later…

   “I’m telling you, Spock, wait ‘til you see her!”  Captain James T. Kirk bragged to his first officer as they approached Admiral Washington’s office in Starfleet headquarters.  “You thought she was gorgeous before!  Let me tell you, you ain’t seen nothin’ yet!”

   “Captain, I do not understand the human tradition of referring to ships as if they are female.  The Enterprise has no gender, as you well know,” the Vulcan responded.

   Kirk shook his head, nearly dislodging the cap that was part of his gray dress uniform.  “You’re wrong, Spock.  She’s a lady through and through.  If you’d been here to watch her being rebuilt, like Scotty and I have, you’d know what I mean.  Instead you’ve been off in Africa, meeting the parents…”

   “I had made the acquaintance of Lieutenant Uhura’s parents before,” Spock corrected.  “At her graduation ceremony.”

   “Yeah, but not as ‘the boyfriend.’”  Kirk shuddered.  “I don’t envy you that.”

   “On the contrary.  Nyota’s family was quite welcoming.  I found Africa pleasant: the heat reminded me of Old Vulcan.”

   Kirk rolled his eyes.  “Sure, Spock.  Whatever you say.”

   The doors to the Admiral’s office slid open for them.  The Admiral, a strongly-built, dark-skinned man in his fifties, gestured for them to come in.

   “Captain James T. Kirk, Commander Spock.  Please take a seat.”

   There was only one other person in the room, a slim woman with cropped blond hair wearing a civilian suit.  She might have been anywhere between forty and sixty.  Kirk had never seen her before.

   “Forgive me, Admiral, but is this another debriefing?”  Kirk felt he had to ask.  He and his crew had been debriefed more than a dozen times since the incident with the Vengeance.  He was getting pretty tired of repeating himself.

   Fortunately this time he’d taken a page from Spock’s book and told the truth about what had happened, all the way up to and including when he’d been brought back from the dead.  Jim figured it was such an incredible story there was no point is trying to edit it.

   Not that Jim's version was the official Starfleet version.  The public could not be kept completely in the dark, of course, not after a starship had landed on top of half of downtown San Francisco.  Starfleet had come clean about Admiral Marcus and his plans.  The only thing they’d held back was John Harrison’s real identity.  Kirk and his crew had been sworn to secrecy on that account.

   “Not exactly.”  The Admiral shifted to one side so the woman could step forward.  “Gentlemen, this is Starfleet Agent Lucretia Donzetti.”

   The woman did not smile, but nodded her head.  “Captain Kirk.  Commander Spock.”

   “Greetings, Agent Donzetti,” Spock said politely.

   “Let me guess,” Kirk added.  “Section 31?”

   “Section 31 does not exist, Captain,” she said smoothly.

   “No, of course it doesn’t.”  Kirk shrugged and sat back in his chair.  “And since the agency doesn’t exist I’m sure nobody’s heads have rolled over this mess.”

   “Captain, I assure you that the Federation is dealing with those who aided the late Admiral Marcus both appropriately and within the law.  His actions were a violation of everything Starfleet stands for and we will make certain no such behavior occurs in the future.”  She said this as smoothly as any Starfleet trained public relations officer.

   Kirk and Spock exchanged a look.  Spock’s brows arched ever so slightly.

   “OK, then, Agent.  How can my First Officer and I help you?”  Kirk said.

   The agent smoothed the lapels on her suit jacket.  “I was hoping you might be able to clear up some things for us.”

   “Of course, Agent.  We would be happy to---“  Spock began before Jim interrupted.

   “Hang on.  If we help you, you need to help us out with something, too.”

   The Admiral’s features darkened.  “Captain,” he said in a warning tone.  “You are treading on very thin ice with that remark.”

   But the agent waved his comment away.  “Let him continue, Admiral Washington.  I’d like to hear what he has to say.”

    Jim grinned.  “Well, Agent, we’d really like to know what you did with Khan after he was put back into stasis.  We are allowed to say his name in here, right?”

   “In this room and only in this room,” the Admiral cautioned.

   In the meantime Spock was looking at his friend.  “I do not…”

   “C’mon, Spock, you’ve been wondering about it, too, admit it.”

   The Vulcan was quiet for a moment. 

   “I will confess I have been curious,” he admitted.  “Khan and his surviving crew cannot be left in cryogenic stasis indefinitely.  To do so would inevitably prove fatal for them.”   

   The agent folded her arms and went to the window.  Below them construction cranes were still putting the city back together.  “I rather wonder that you care what happened to him, Captain.”

   “He saved my life.  In fact by my count he saved my life three times,” Kirk explained.  “He only killed me once.”

   The Admiral made a strange sound in the back of his throat.  It might have been a strangled laugh.

   The agent looked annoyed. 

   “Very well.  But what I’m about to tell you does not leave this room.  The criminal known as Khan and his crew have been delivered to a Class M planet.  Its exact location is, of course, classified.  The planet is uninhabited but is capable of sustaining human life.  The stasis chambers were set to revive them once the delivery team was off-world.  Beacons have been laid around the planet warning starships not to approach.”  She gazed at Kirk with hard, cold eyes.  “He wanted a world to conquer.  The Federation has given him one.” 

    Kirk digested this news quietly for a moment.  Khan had been a fearsome opponent.  Kirk had not liked or trusted him. 

   But he had not been a mystery.  In a strange way Kirk had understood what drove the man.  And that had been before Khan’s blood had been used to revive him. 

   Now Jim wasn’t entirely sure how he felt.  He was still processing everything that had happened.  Above all he was just relieved to hear that the Earth was safe for the time being.

   “Building a new world with only seventy-three individuals will not be an easy task,” Spock observed.  The Vulcans, of course, knew something about building new worlds.

   “Seventy-three Augments will have a better chance than seventy-three humans would,” the Admiral observed.  “And as far as I’m concerned it’s more than that murderer deserved.”

   “Yes, Admiral, your opinions on the matter are well known,” Agent Donzetti said idly.  “But the Federation made its decision, and Starfleet has abided by it.”  She picked up two PADDs and handed one each to Kirk and Spock.  “Now may I ask my questions?”

   “Sure.  Shoot,” Kirk said.

   “We have been combing through the late Admiral Marcus’ records to try and trace his movements in the months leading up to the attack in London.  Most of his known confederates have been identified and arrested.  But we’ve found two Starfleet personnel close to him who died under mysterious circumstances during that time.  We believe there may be a connection.”

   Kirk tapped his screen, and a holo of a middle-aged man with coffee-colored skin appeared.  He wore a Starfleet dress uniform and was staring into the camera in that stiff way that suggested the holo had been taken for a security pass.

   “Captain Jonah Rivers served with Marcus both on the USS Aldrin and later on the Constitution.  We believe Marcus recruited him into the plot early on.   He left active duty and transferred to Marcus’ personal staff two years ago.  After that it becomes very difficult to trace his movements.  According to Starfleet records he was killed in an explosion on the research station Marcus was using to hide his starship.  But there were no other victims, and no witnesses.  We’ve exhumed his remains but results were…inconclusive.”

   “You think the Admiral had him bumped off?”  Kirk asked.

   “’Bumped off’?”  Spock echoed.

   “Killed,” the captain clarified.  “Assassinated.”

   “Ah.”

   “We don’t know.  Perhaps it was Khan that killed him.”  The agent sat on the edge of the desk and regarded them steadily.  “Ever seen him before?”

   “No.  You, Spock?”

   “I have not.”

   “Did Khan—Harrison—say anything to either of you about any of Marcus’ team?  Rivers, for example?”

   “No,” Kirk told her.

   “Hmm.  Very well.  The other case is an even longer shot, but I thought I should ask.”

   Kirk scrolled to the next screen.  This was a holo of an attractive, red-haired woman close to Kirk’s age.  It appeared to be a screen capture.

   “Pretty lady.  Who is she?”

  Before the agent could speak Spock did.

   “Dr. Marla McGivers.  She taught History here at the Academy.” 

   “A friend of yours, Spock?”  Kirk asked.

   “A professor,” he corrected.  “I enrolled in her course on Earth’s World Wars during my last semester here.  I found it…most enlightening.”

   “And you haven’t seen her since?”  Donzetti demanded.

   Spock was unruffled.  “I have not.  Her academic specialty was the Eugenics Wars, was it not?”

  “It was,” the Admiral agreed.

   “We know Marcus recruited her for some project not long before she died.  Her department was told she was needed to examine some parchment discovered by a research team in Greenland.  That was a ruse, of course.  There was no such project.”

   “Did she die in an explosion, too?”  Kirk asked.

   “Yes.  Caused by a shuttle malfunction over the North Sea.  Her remains were not recovered.”

   “You believe this was another assassination?”  Spock asked.

   “Her expertise could have been a threat to the success of Marcus’ project,” Kirk reasoned.  “He wouldn’t have hesitated to have her eliminated if he thought she’d get in his way.”

   “That conclusion is…logical.”

   Kirk grinned.  “Thank you.”  He turned back to the agent.  “I wish we could help you, Agent, but we don’t know anything about these two.  The only person Khan ever mentioned—the only person he ever blamed—was Admiral Marcus.”

   If the agent was disappointed she hid it well.  “Understood.”  She took back the two tablets.  “Then we will leave their deaths listed as ‘accidental’ unless new evidence comes to light.  Thank you for your time, gentlemen.”

   Kirk had been in Starfleet long enough to know when he was being dismissed.  He stood, and Spock followed.

   “Captain, Commander,” the Admiral said with a nod.  “You may go.”

   “Thank you, sir.”

   Kirk waited until they were back in the hallway and the doors were safely closed before speaking.

   “Another waste of time.  I told you so.”

   “On the contrary, we now know what became of Khan,” Spock reasoned as they waited for the turbolift. 

   “Yeah, dumped off on a deserted planet,” Kirk grumbled.  “How do we know he isn’t going to come back?  If anyone could find away to get off a hunk of rock in space he could.”

   “You are not being logical, Jim.  Khan will prioritize his own survival and that of his crew over any thoughts of revenge for the immediate future.”

   “And if they do survive? Then what?”

   “It is improbable Khan would need or want to return to Earth, or have the ability to do so in his lifetime.  I calculate the odds of his return at 5.3 percent.”

   “That’s not zero, Spock.  I’d prefer a zero.”  Kirk retorted as he followed his friend into the lift. 

   “Khan has shown himself to be both extremely intelligent and unpredictable,” Spock reasoned.  “With such a man it would be unwise to underestimate him.”  He then abruptly fell silent.

   Kirk eyed his friend suspiciously.  “What is it?”

   “It is nothing, Captain.”

   Kirk pressed the button for the ground floor, but after they’d moved only a few levels he quickly hit the emergency stop.  The turbolift jolted to a halt.

   “Is something wrong?”

   “Yeah, Spock.  You’re holding out on me.”

   “I do not understand.”

   “There’s something you’re not telling me.  Out with it.”

   “It is a trivial matter and of no consequence.”

   Kirk leaned against the safety railing.  “Why don’t you let me be the judge of that?”

   Spock seemed to think this over for a moment.  “As you wish.  I am troubled because I withheld information from the Admiral and Agent Donzetti.”

   “You, Spock?”  Kirk spluttered in surprise.  “You lied to them?”

   “I did not lie,” the Vulcan said firmly.  “I simply did not see the relevance of sharing certain information with them.”

   Kirk felt oddly proud of his friend.  “Well, you’re going to share it with me.  Now.  Right?”

   “I believe I told you that during my hand-to-hand combat with Khan I briefly attempted to mind-meld with him, in order to distract him and thus gain the upper hand.”

   “Yeah.  You also said it didn’t work.”

   “As an Augmented human his physical strength was equal to my own, and his agility was superior to mine.  His mind was quite unlike any other human mind I’ve encountered.  Whether this was a product of his genetic enhancement or his rage I cannot say.”

   Kirk knew when his friend was beating around the bush.

   “But you did see something.  Is that what you’re saying?”

   “Yes.  It was only a fleeting glimpse, and I did not make the connection until now.”  His dark eyes were calm.  “I realize now I saw Dr. McGivers, Jim.”

   “In Khan’s head?”

   “Yes.”

   Kirk thought this over.  “Do you know why?”

   “I do not.  As I said, it was only the briefest of images, one among many others.”

   “So he knew her.”

   “I believe so.”

   “That’s possible, I guess.  If Marcus really did have her on the project…”

   “It is more than that.  Now that I am reflecting upon it she seemed to be associated in his mind with what happened in London.  I believe Dr. McGivers lived beyond her official ‘death’ in Starfleet records.”

   The human nodded in understanding.  “You think she helped him.”

   “It is a distinct possibility.”

   Kirk whistled.  “A professor, and Starfleet officer, aided and abetted a known war criminal from the 20th Century—maybe even helped him get to London in the first place.  Serious stuff.”

   “You believe I erred in not mentioning this to the Admiral and Agent Donzetti?” 

   After a moment Jim shook his head.  “No, Spock.  All you have is an impression of a red-haired woman you picked out of a lunatic’s head.  You can’t know for sure your interpretation is the right one.  Besides, what good is it going to do now?”

   “Captain?”

   Kirk reached over and hit a button, and the lift lurched back into motion.

   “The woman’s dead, Spock.  Her colleagues and friends will have already mourned her and moved on with their lives.  I don’t see how dragging her name through the mud now would do anyone any good.  Do you?”

   The tension in Spock’s posture eased a bit.  “I believe you are correct.  I am pleased you concur with my initial assessment of the situation.”

   “Any time, Spock.  Any time.” 

   Jim knew it was generally not a good idea to make physical contact with Vulcans without warning them first.  But he took the risk and briefly clapped his friend on the shoulder as they exited into the main lobby.

   “You’re really coming along, Spock,” he told him proudly.  “Now, let me tell you about the redesign on the nacelles.  Scotty had outdone himself…”

   

    

   


	11. Epilogue

Epilogue

Author’s note: You know what I really like about the reboot?  That everything is back on the table as far as the future goes.  And that in this timeline some people get to _have_ a future.

 

Ceti Alpha V

Fifteen years in the future…

 

   "Zorah, tell me how many People there are now."

   Marla waited patiently while the child stood to answer.

   "One hundred and twenty two, ma'am," Zorah said proudly.

   "Soon to be one hundred and twenty three," the little boy seated next to her added. 

   The classroom erupted in giggles.

   "That's enough, children.  Very good, Zorah, thank you."  She eyed the rest of her classroom.  There were nearly thirty students of all ages seated on the benches. 

    "Tommorrow we will cover Earth history from 1790 to 1845. We will also be visiting the greenhouse to study the vascular structure of our native plants.  Class dismissed."

   The children happily ran for the door to the shipping container that served as their classroom.  The two suns of Ceti Alpha V were still high in the sky, leaving them lots of time to play before their parents called them home.

   Marla absently rubbed her swollen belly.   She always forgot how tired she got this late in her pregnancies.  A few more weeks and one of the other women would have to take over for her while she prepared for delivery.

   "Here you are, Mother."  Her second daughter, Sara, brought her the stack of workbooks the students had left on their desks.  Marla had painstakingly made each one by hand out of recycled paper.  Nothing on the planet was ever wasted.

   "Thank you, darling."

   "I helped, too!"  Her youngest boy, Joshua, smiled up at her, brandishing a handful of pencils in his fist.

   "You're a big help, love," she told the boy.  "Let's go home."

* * *

 

   As she walked with her children she shaded her eyes with her hand and gazed across the desert sands of the planet she now called home.

   The Federation had left Khan and his people here fifteen years before.  They had set the sleeping pods to open only once the starship was out of the area.

    Marla had no idea why they'd chosen Ceti Alpha V, except perhaps because it both could support life and was isolated from other inhabited planets. 

   In fact, the People, as they now called themselves, would not have known they were on Ceti Alpha V had the Federation not left them a tablet computer containing that information and what little the Federation knew about the planet.

   That tablet had of course long since ceased to function.  But Marla had been sure to transcribe all the information by hand before it did.

   Once a historian, always a historian, she supposed.

   The human settlement consisted of only two dozen buildings, arranged around a central courtyard.  Most were made from the containers the Federation had left with them when they'd been abandoned on this planet.  Originally filled with food, medical supplies, and other useful items they now were houses and kitchens, a medical clinic and a workshop.

   Ceti Alpha V was uninhabited, save for a few native animals.  Some the People hunted for food and for their skins.  Others, like the burrowing, crustacean-like Ceti eel, were only nuisances.

   The planet was bleak, but there was water enough to sustain them and their crops.

   It was a basic life, and a hard one.  But it grew easier year by year.

   Marla's husband Khan was the one to thank for that.  None of them would have survived this long if not for him.

* * *

 

   He'd chosen his crew wisely.  They were not only Augments but each had possessed skills valuable to a fledging civilization--medical knowledge, botanical training, and even hunting experience.

   When Marla had awoken to this new world she had not know if the Augments would accept her.  She was, after all, just an ordinary human, one still suffering from the aftereffects of her phaser wound.  And Khan's female followers were much more attractive than she was. Marla had half-expected that Khan would refuse to resume their previous relationship.

   But Khan had told his people what she had done for them.  He'd claimed her as his wife, and had declared that no woman was braver or more superior than she.

   No one had disputed him.

   And so their new life on this new planet had begun.

* * *

 

   Her family had their own quarters made of mud brick.  The walls were thick to protect against Ceti Alpha V's punishing suns and dust storms.  A high arched roof provided ventilation and made the small space seem larger.  There was an open hearth in the center for the cold desert nights.  Low curtained sleeping lofts in each corner gave each family member a little privacy.  Instead of a door or windows the thick skins of the native _ba'ash_ covered the openings in the evenings and during the planet's frequent dust storms. 

   The house reminded Marla of photographs she had seen of sod houses the pioneers on Earth's Great Plains had built generations ago.

   Sara and Josh played quietly by the hearth, giving Marla a chance to rest after her day's work. 

   She smiled at them.  Because their mother was not genetically enhanced her children did not grow quite as fast as the offspring of two Augments did.  But they still grew faster than children back home.  Josh was only two, but was closer in size and knowledge to a boy of four.  Sara was five, but seemed seven or eight.

   In some ways this had proved a blessing.  The Augments were exceptionally healthy, but they did age, more so now in these harsh surroundings.  And the medical care the colony could offer was minimal at best.

   They would not live forever.  Marla certainly would not. 

   Fortunately the first generation of children born on the planet was now reaching adulthood.  Many had already begun families of their own.  Her oldest son, she expected, would be marrying soon.  It was hard to wrap her mind around sometimes. 

   The more adults their community had, the more hands there were to help with all the work that needed to be done.  And the more children born, the better the chances the People would survive.

   Of the seventy-one Augments, only thirty had been women.  With fewer women than men Khan had made it clear that people would need to choose their mates carefully.  Divorce was permitted, but not encouraged.  Families tended to be large.    

   It still made Marla chuckle a bit.  She had born the first human child on the planet less than a year after they had arrived.  At first the Augments had seemed a little puzzled at bringing children into the world in this way: they had all been created in labs, after all.  But nature had eventually taken its course.

   Marla kept careful records of all the births and deaths on the planet so future generations would know who was related to whom.  Deliberate genetic enhancement was no longer possible under the conditions in which they lived, Khan had explained to his People.  But it was still important that children be born as strong and healthy as possible.  To that end those related too closely would not be permitted to marry.

   She set aside her reveries and started supper.  Kneeling over the hearth Josh and Sara helped her add _ba'ash_ meat to a pot of boiling water.  Marla added chopped _numor_ , a starchy, melon like vegetable that grew well in their irrigated fields, and some seasonings. 

   The animal skin that covered the entrance was pulled back, and two cloaked figures entered.  Their heads and bodies were carefully swaddled to protect them from the sun and the dust of the deserts beyond the settlement.

   Marla smiled and got gingerly to her feet.  "I was wondering when you'd get home.  Supper's almost ready.  Sara, would you get the water pitcher and basin, please?" 

   "Yes, here it is."  While the two men unwrapped themselves the child poured out a basin of clean water so they could wash the dust from their hands and faces.

   Marla picked up their coats and head coverings, carefully shaking them out before hanging them up. "Were you able to repair the evaporator in the Alpha quadrant?"  She asked hopefully.

   "We were," her husband told her simply.  Eager for his attention Josh went to him and pulled on his sleeve.  Khan laid a hand on the boy's head in acknowledgement.

   His skin was deeply tanned from the sun and silver threads laced through his dark hair at the temples.  But he was still the most handsome man she had ever seen.

   "Good."  Marla was relieved.  The evaporators--Khan's own design--helped supplement the limited natural rainfall of the planet.

   "Damn dust got inside the condenser, as usual," her oldest child, Finn, told her.  Named after his maternal great-grandfather, he was tall, fierce, and intelligent, like his father.  He had Marla's red hair and blue eyes.

   "Those new filters John Jr. designed aren't working as well as expected," Finn added.  "He'll have to go back to the drawing board."

   "John's going to be mad about that," Sara observed in her child's way.

   "Your brother is a scientist," her father told her.  "He understands that what has been designed often need to be redesigned."

   Marla had insisted on naming her second child, also a boy, "John Jr." She and Khan were the only ones on the planet who got the joke. 

   While Finn was clearly destined for leadership, John was quieter and preferred tinkering in the workshops to hunting.  But like all their children he, too, had his father's fine mind.  He had a gift for machines and for improving the limited technology available to the community.  His father let him experiment as much as possible.  John now lived in his own quarters attached to the colony's main workshop, so he would be available at all hours for repairs and consultation.  

   The family sat down to supper together around the hearth.  Marla spooned generous portions of stew into bowls made from the skulls of _maran_ , the large, predatory fish that lived in the handful of rivers on the planet.  The spoons they used had been crafted from bone as well.

   "Any news of Maria?"  She asked her husband and oldest son while they ate.

   "Joaquin heard from the hunting expedition earlier today.  All is going well," Khan told her.  "They should be home in a few more days."

   Marla nodded.  Joaquin was another Augment, and Khan's most trusted advisor besides Finn.  It was he who had made the beautiful dishes for them as a gift to mark Maria's birth.

   Maria was their third child and their first daughter.  Recently finished with school, she was a skilled tracker and hunter who put her skills to work for the People. 

   Marla smiled privately to herself as she ate.  Thus far among her grown and nearly grown children she'd produced a warrior/politician; a mechanic/scientist; and a hunter.  It was not the sort of aspirations Marla might have once had for her children.  In her old life, she had always assumed that if she had children they would have all been bound for university and then Starfleet, just as she had been.  But they were certainly much more practical professions for this planet.

  "Many bellies will be filled thanks to my sister," Finn said proudly.  Unlike his younger brothers and sisters Finn was old enough to remember the lean years when they'd first arrived, when there often hadn't been quite enough food to go around.

   "Yes, you're right, of course," Marla said with a nod.  She paused and rubbed her stomach.  The baby within her kicked vigorously. 

   Khan, who was seated next to her, laid a hand on her belly.  "How is she today?"

   She smiled.  "Fine.  You know she's always fine."  The gender of this child, their sixth, was not yet known. 

   Khan wanted another daughter.  He had told Marla it was because there were still more men than women on the planet.  Women were highly valued in the colony because of it.  They enjoyed greater equality here than even on Earth. 

   But Marla also suspected he fancied having three girls to go with his three boys.  He'd even chosen the child's name already--Ona.  He'd decided all of the names of the women in his clan would end in "a," like Marla's own.

   Marla sometimes amused herself that it would be a boy.  But her husband had made up his mind for a girl, and he usually got his way. 

   Marla took a moment to lay her hand over his.  They seldom had any privacy or time alone together these days.  She'd learned to relish every moment she had with him.

  

* * *

 

   The suns were down and Marla busied herself tucking Sara and Josh into their shared pallet.  The children had few toys, clothes, or possessions of any kind.  But the house was snug and cozy, and their bellies were full.  As a mother Marla could not ask for much more for her children than that.

   She finished telling them their favorite story, the story of how the People had come to Ceti Alpha V.  They had listened, wide-eyed, even though both knew it by heart.  Every child on the planet did.  It was a part of their history, too, now.

   Marla smoothed the hair from Josh's brow.

   "You two remember what I've told you," she encouraged.  "So you can tell you own children some day."

   "Yes, Mother," both children said with nods.

   "And don't forget the most important thing, my loves," she reminded them.  "If anyone from Starfleet ever appears on this planet, what do you do?"

   "Kill them," they said in unison.

   Marla smiled fiercely.

   "That's right."  She kissed both children.

   "Sleep well, my superior ones," she told them.   

  

FIN


End file.
